


White Interest - repeat number

by Arches67



Series: White Interest [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV), White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3843103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arches67/pseuds/Arches67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his release has been denied, Neal Caffrey is mysteriously kidnapped…. Back at the Library, the Machine pulls up a repeat number… A new race against time starts as FBI and The Machine's team rush to find Neal before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A new crossover by Yellowstone69 and Arches67.
> 
> The events in this story happen immediately after the last episode of season 5 of White Collar, right after Neal's kidnapping. On the Person of Interest time line, the action takes place during the second half of season 3, before the final arc with Samaritan.
> 
> This is not a direct sequel to our history "White Interest", yet it is set in the same universe, so probably better to read it first to better understand this fic.
> 
> Note: we started thinking about this story before season 5 of White Collar was even over; we started writing right after the final episode (Neal's kidnapping was just the "incident" we needed). 95% of the story was written by July 2014. Then, real life caught up and we couldn't finish the story as soon as we wanted. Season 6 is now over, as well as the show –tears…– although Yellowstone69 hasn't seen it yet. So the first chapter was written WAY before the first episode of season 6 aired. There is a saying about "great minds" right? Not great minds, but real fans of the show, who of course shared common ideas with the creators. So if some scenes look familiar, not our fault, it had it written well before they aired! 
> 
> So, go back in time. Forget season 6 of White Collar, forget Samaritan's win and season 4 of Person of Interest, and enjoy the ride.
> 
> As usual, we are posting by chapters because we are mean like that, but the whole story is written. 
> 
> Please keep in mind English is not my first language. Anything weird, please let me know, I'll correct. (Not beta's for English, sorry. Still looking for a beta. Anyone?)

_New York, Roosevelt Island_

The man in boots got into the van and nodded to the driver who started the car immediately.

He glanced at the back. Rick had just tazed the man that kept fighting under the black hood. He took his phone and dialed a number.

"We have the package."

Without another word, he disconnected the call.

* * *

 

_New York, Wednesday 10:00 am – FBI offices – Day of Neal's kidnapping_

Bent over a new file, Diana and Jones almost missed Peter's arrival, as he went straight to his office without a single glance at anyone. The two agents looked at each other surprised. Their former boss wasn't supposed to be there today, but at home packing for his move to Washington with Elizabeth.

Actually, the farewell party the day before had been filled with quite a few tears. Peter had been an extraordinary boss; things wouldn't be easy for the new agent in charge. Although she kept it for herself for now, Diana thought Peter was one of a kind. She was thinking of her own future: she was going to request a transfer to Washington. She had no particular ties in New York and she had enjoyed her previous stay in the capital. Raising Theo there couldn't hurt him either.

Peter's door banging brought her back from her musings. She had never seen that in the five years she had spent in the service. What could put Peter in such a frenzy?

Jones looked at her and whispered a sole word: "Neal."

Seating in his office, Peter was thinking to the beginning of the day: a real nightmare! Events seemed to snowball and he couldn't do anything about it. First, the phone call telling him that Neal's release had been denied. Telling it to his friend had been awful; it had felt as if he had stabbed the man in the back. He would never be able to forget Neal's wounded eyes. In all their time together, Peter had never seen such despair on his friend's face.

Although he still had doubts about his level of sincerity sometimes, he knew Neal tried hard. As a matter of fact, Peter was hoping that Neal would accept to work with him, not as a prisoner but because he wanted to.

Neal's reaction to the decision had been violent, to say the least. He would never forget the look on his friend's face when he had explained that the FBI wasn't releasing him because he was an asset to the service; if he had been useless, he would have been sent back to prison. Feeling deeply betrayed, Neal had just commented, "the game was rigged from the beginning." Except that it wasn't a game, it was real life.

Right after that he had told Elizabeth he was staying in New York to take care of Neal's case. She had very calmly informed him that she was still going to Washington. The job she had secured at the National Gallery of Art was a one in a lifetime opportunity; she was not giving it up.

Peter had agreed, not very sure of what it meant for them, then had come back to his office.

Was living away from Elizabeth really a good idea? Was choosing Neal, again, the thing to do? For the past five years, that man had upset his whole life, for better and worse. Thanks to his arrest and their work together, he had achieved the best success rate ever seen and was now one of the best agents of the agency. Those same ties had also sent him to prison and he had almost lost his career! Now, unintentionally, he was interfering in his personal life, getting in between himself and Elizabeth. Was he really worth that much dedication? Did their relationship, half professional, half friendship, deserve that his own marriage hung in the balance?

Seeing their boss holding his head with two hands finally convinced Diana and Jones to go meet him.

Peter jumped in surprise at the knock on his door.

"Come in," he said in a harsh tone.

The phone on his desk rang.

"Agent Burke. How may I help you?" he answered a bit drily.

Peter's face turned darker as he listened to the words on the receiver. He rose suddenly and started yelling.

"Is this some kind of sick joke? Caffrey has left his radius thirty minutes ago and you only call me now?" Peter stopped for a second to breathe. "Agents are on their way to intercept him. I certainly hope so, you bunch of–".

Diana had just grabbed the phone from his hand and informed the person that Peter would be calling back in a few minutes.

A bit surprised by Diana's intervention, Peter started to pace only to stop immediately, his office not allowing for such. He turned to the window and hit the glass with his hand flat in an angry gesture. "Quite useful telling him not to do anything stupid, it wasn't over," he whispered.

"Peter, could you please let us know what is going on?" Diana asked in a poised voice.

The agent seemed to remember he wasn't alone. He sighed deeply and apologized for his outburst. The call had come from the Marshals' office. Neal had left his radius and was moving northward quite fast.

Not wanting to ignite Peter's anger again, Jones cautiously asked, "do you have any idea why he would have done that? I didn't understand your last sentence. Why would Neal do something stupid?"

"Neal's release has been denied. I told him the news this morning," Peter explained in a tired voice.

Jones and Diana watched him aghast, dumfounded by the news.

"To summarize, the FBI Director said that Neal had blown any chance of release because of his stunt to Cape Verde. Furthermore the bureau doesn't want to let him go because he is a real asset for our cases," Peter added.

"I really thought this was it, that Neal would get his release. I spoke with the attorney a couple of days ago. He had seemed to think it was a given. I don't understand why they changed their minds."

"Unbelievable," Diana whispered.

Peter picked up the phone and called the Marshals office back. The conversation lasted long minutes. They finally heard Peter tell them that he would personally look for Neal and bring him back, then put him behind bars this time.

He hung up and turned to his best agents.

"The Marshals just found a pick-up with Neal's anklet, but no Neal. It would have been too easy… Apparently, he managed to open the anklet with a key. I don't get it. I thought there were only two keys for that anklet: the Marshals' one and mine."

I'll need to check that, he thought frowning.

"Which means, Neal is on the loose." He sighed. "Diana, gather a team to search for Neal."

Diana suddenly had an idea.

"Peter, before we gather the whole cavalry, can I give a call to Mozzie?" she said. "If he doesn't answer, it will mean they ran away; if he does answer…"

"I'm sure he won't answer," Peter cut her.

Diana dialed Mozzie's number on her mobile phone and put the speaker on.

"Hello. Hi Diana, Theo needs his favorite nanny?" Mozzie asked with a happy voice.

Diana could see the utter surprise on Peter's face. He had been so convinced that Neal had run. They all knew that Neal on the run, meant Mozzie too. He wasn't expecting the man to answer the phone, or sound that cheerful.

"Sorry, Mozzie, that's not why I'm calling. Did you Neal today?" she asked.

"Briefly this morning, after he talked to Peter. He was mad, which is quite understandable. Why?"

"He didn't come to the office," Diana answered.

"Something's up, right?" Mozzie asked suddenly worried. "You wouldn't have called me otherwise. Neal has been late before."

"Mozzie, Peter speaking. Neal is out of his anklet. As such, the Marshals' office is considering he ran away. Did you know about it? Did he tell you anything?" Peter asked, still pretty angry.

"No! Nothing like that. He didn't behave like he was about to run. We had even agreed to meet in a few days."

"Mozzie, don't try to cover your friend. Tell me the truth!"

"Hey! Easy! I didn't do anything. You asked me a question, I answered it. I am positive Neal didn't intend to run away today," Mozzie added, clearly annoyed too now.

"Peter, maybe we should consider other angles," Diana intervened. "Maybe he is in trouble…"

"Any idea?" Peter asked.

"We could start searching Neal's place. At least, find some clues that would help us determine if he has indeed run away. It would change how we organize our forces."

"All right. Let's search his loft. Mozzie, meet us there. Wait outside if you arrive before we do," Peter instructed.

He carried on, "I don't want you to compromise the premises. And you better show us all the hiding spots of that place. I'm sure you know all of Neal's secret hidings."

"Glad to see you trust me," Mozzie answered with sarcasm; clearly annoyed by the renewed proof of distrust from the Suit.

* * *

 

They had been searching the loft for over an hour. Mozzie had pointed to all the hiding places he knew, most of them anyway... The search had uncovered a few bearer bonds, a precious stone of shady provenance and mysterious value, a roll of letters to Kate, some pictures with beautiful ladies in different cities of Europe, contact addresses all over the world. But nothing significant…

Mozzie didn't really want to reveal where Neal hid his passports. If they were there, it proved his theory was the right one; Neal had disappeared unwillingly. If they were missing, then Neal had lied to everybody, himself included. Did he really want to know?

"Mozzie, any other hiding spot you want to show us?" Jones asked.

"A last one," he answered in a dark voice.

He went to the buffet in the main room and applied pressure to a column. "The moment of truth," he whispered to himself.

He put his hand in the opening and took the box he was hoping to find.

Jones grabbed it and opened it immediately.

In the box were all of Neal's passports.

"See! He didn't run! The documents that could have helped him go across borders are all here!" Mozzie viciously spat at Peter, not caring that he was actually confessing to Neal having several hidden identities.

The agent didn't know what to make of this. He had been so convinced Neal had run, that he had trouble coming up with another explanation.

The agents gathered the few documents they had found then left Neal's refuge; Mozzie was allowed to remain for a while. A police officer was assigned to keep watch in front of the building.

Mozzie waited a few minutes then started a new methodical search. He had been compelled to show most of Neal's hiding places, but he had still managed to save a few ones.

Fifteen minutes later, he let himself fall heavily on the couch, disappointed.

This new thorough search had revealed a few interesting secrets, some of which he couldn't wait to tease Neal about, but nothing that would hint at his friend running away. The passports, the cash he had just found, everything had been left behind.

He couldn't believe his friend had run after asking him to help him disappear. He had tried to keep that possibility in mind. But, honestly, it didn't make any sense.

Which only left one possibility… He didn't dare fathom a most tragic option.

He would bet his life on it: Neal had been kidnapped.

And as whom was behind it… their past was way too complicated to start building theories so soon.

Letting his mind drift, his eyes fell on the last box he had removed from the walk-in closet. There were two phones in it. The first one was the phone they used for their communications under certain circumstances. Some calls required extra protection. He couldn't recall where the other one came from.

Then, he remembered.

It was the phone John Reese had given Neal, almost a year ago when Keller had kidnapped Sara to get hold of their treasure.

It was weird that Neal hadn't got rid of it… It was related to far too many bad memories.

Neal's mysterious guardian angel had appeared out of nowhere when his friend had been in danger. Did he sell his services? What would be his price if Mozzie called him for help? Although, when he thought about it, he doubted there would be any financial transaction involved. They had other motives. Finch, his partner, looked like he had an unlimited access to funds. Let's just hope they would be willing to help them. The agent had seemed to like Neal. He might agree to do some research.

Before he even thought clearly about it, his hand had reached for the phone. He just needed to find the right charger.

* * *

 

Mozzie's eyes were glued to the battery indicator. It seemed charging this burner was taking hours.

The light finally indicated that the phone had charged, and Mozzie realized his hands were shaking as he pushed a button praying that John's number was still in use.

The wait seemed to go on forever. He held his breath when he heard the dialing tone, then froze when a familiar voice answered.

"Neal? I thought I told you to stay out of trouble."

* * *

 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_New York, Wednesday 5:00 pm, Finch's library_

Bear entered the library followed by John Reese. The military dog went straight to Finch and proudly put a ball by the keyboard.

Finch raised an eyebrow and turned to his employee.

"Another baseball, Mr. Reese?"

John had a small smile.

"Bear does find them better than the players."

The ex-agent picked up the ball and threw in a box where they stashed the toys Bear found himself during his walks to Central Park.

Finch's fingers were running on his keyboard.

"We just received a new number, Mr. Reese."

John waited for his employer to give him more information.

"Oh… It seems we have a repeat number…"

John grunted and rubbed his forehead.

"Damn. What has Leon got himself into again? If he keeps finding trouble, I'm going to ask Fusco to lock him up; it will give us a break!"

"It is not Mr. Tao," Finch answered in a dark voice.

Sensing the change in his tone, John came to the screen and stared wide-eyed.

At the same moment, his phone ringed. He looked at the number and frowned picking up the line.

"Neal? I thought I told you to stay out of trouble…"

Silence was his only answer.

"Neal?"

"Mozzie. How do you know Neal is in trouble?" Mozzie asked surprised, then carried on without letting John talk. "Oh… your source told you? That's not good…" he added worried.

"What's going on?"

"Neal has disappeared"

"What do you mean, 'disappeared'?"

"He is out of his anklet and we don't have any news from him."

"You think he ran away?"

"No! Never!" Mozzie hesitated, musing that a few hours earlier he had promised Neal he would help him get away."

John seemed to sense the hesitation. "Mozzie, what about telling me the truth?"

When he only got a grunt for an answer, Reese remembered Neal's friend paranoia.

"Where are you?"

"At Neal's place."

"All right. Stay there. I'm coming."

He turned to the man at the computer. "Finch…"

"Already on the Marshals' base. I will locate the last place where Mr. Caffrey's anklet was active before vanishing."

"I won't be long."

* * *

 

When John got to Neal's apartment, an agent was standing by the stairs. The disappearance of the CI had apparently generated a major man's hunt. He didn't want to be spotted by the FBI agents, so he called Mozzie on the mobile phone.

"Mozzie, are you alone?"

"Yes, the FBI team has finished going over the place. As if Neal would have left any clue if he had indeed run away…" Mozzie grumbled.

"A distraction would be nice to help me get in."

"What about a secret entrance?"

"Secret entrance?" John asked amused. Then he remembered the owner of the house was the spouse of a known criminal. He had probably needed to escape discreetly during his "career".

He met Mozzie behind the house and a few minutes later he was standing by the terrace and its incredible point of view. He admired the rooftops for a moment, then turned to Mozzie. He was pouring himself a glass of wine. He raised the bottle to offer him a glass, but John shook his head.

"How is Sara doing?" John asked, remembering what had brought him here the first time.

Mozzie raised a surprised eyebrow. "Sara? She's fine… I guess."

John shot him a slightly perplexed look and Mozzie gaped at him at a loss, then frowned.

"Damn, this is ridiculous!"

Reese couldn't help a small smile. Apparently both were surprised at each other's reaction but probably not for the same reasons.

"Neal and Sara aren't together anymore," Mozzie explained, finally getting a hint at John's surprise.

"What? Last time I saw Neal he was going to propose. I thought it was a done deal."

"So did he…" Mozzie murmured.

He sighed. "When I searched the place looking for any clue helping me understand Neal's disappearance, I found this."

He opened a drawer and took a blue velvet box. Reese reached out and opened the box. A simple ring with a discreet but beautiful diamond was nestled in a red heart.

"Magnificent," John commented. He gave the box back. "I don't understand…"

"Neither did Neal." Mozzie pointed to the couch, inviting John to sit down.

"After Keller disappearance and Peter's return, everything was fine. I've never seen him that happy, that care free. It was as if he had been given wings. Then, out of the blue, one morning Sara told him she was going back to London, that they weren't meant to live together. And Neal lost his wings…"

Mozzie took a gulp of his wine, his eyes lost.

"He never knew why Sara left. I tried to confront her, the only thing she said, and I quote, was 'I perfectly knew.' Problem is, I haven't the foggiest idea. Neal went on working with Peter… and Rebecca made her entrance."

"Rebecca?" John exclaimed amazed. The CI was fast on his feet!

"Rebecca was everything Neal loved in a woman. She was perfect… absolutely perfect… and totally fake."

"Fake?" John repeated.

"A wonderfully mastered con to get Neal to help her find a diamond."

Mozzie told him how, together, they had solved the mystery of the Mosconi codex until they had found the pink diamond and discovered in the end that Rebecca was not Rebecca.

"She broke Neal's heart… And although he hates her for what she did, I think that deep inside he is still in love with her, which only makes things worse."

"Not to the point that he…" John felt a sudden cold. He had been at the end of that road –if not for the same reasons– he knew how life could lose any interest.

"No!" Mozzie yelled, fear crossing his eyes. "I was supposed to help him find a solution to disappear, leave New York, start somewhere afresh, forget about everything in his previous life… We met on Roosevelt Island this morning; I was supposed to reach out to him in a few days. When Peter called to tell me that Neal was out of his anklet, it didn't make any sense."

He looked at John right in the eyes.

"That's why I know that Neal didn't run. He hasn't vanished willingly. And you telling me that your source has informed you that he is in danger only confirms my suspicion that he has been kidnapped… I don't see any other explanation."

John nodded. Apparently Mozzie had been thinking this thoroughly.

"I hope… he has only been kidnapped," he whispered, as he couldn't help thinking that maybe Neal was already dead.

"Our source usually let us know in advance," John tried to reassure him.

He didn't tell him that their so-called source had had some mishaps recently. They had gotten there too late in some instances.

The ex-agent rose to stretch his legs. Dusk was falling. The shapes of the buildings cut the sky.

"Do you still have your list of Neal's enemies?"

Mozz grunted. "We're not doing this again…" he complained.

John touched his earwig. "Finch, have you been able to locate Caffrey's last signal?"

"Yes. I am now accessing the different cameras to try and find him."

"All right, I'm coming back with Mozzie." He turned to the short man. "Let's go. I'll take you to the Library." And with a flourish worthy of David Copperfield, he took a hood from his pocket.

Mozzie whined.

* * *

 

Reese entered the library holding Mozzie's elbow. His groans could be heard from beneath the hood.

"Really guys… Is this necessary? You know I won't say a thing," Mozzie complained removing the black hood.

"You can't tell about what you don't know," Reese explained calmly.

Mozzie opened his mouth to protest then understood John's meaning, and let a soft "oh" escape.

"Good evening, Mr. Mozzie."

"Good evening. I believe I told you to drop the 'Mister', Finch…"

"Good luck with that one," Reese whispered with a smile. He answered to Mozzie's surprised look. "I have been working for four years with him, yet Finch still calls me 'Mister' Reese."

"Proper manners never hurt, Mr. Reese," Finch answered. "And I do call you John… occasionally."

"Yes, generally when I'm a breath away from dying… You realize I have reached a point where I worry when you call me John, Harold?"

Finch opened his eyes wide but didn't answer.

* * *

 

The three men were watching the screens in front of Finch.

"Here is the signal from Mr. Caffrey's anklet on Roosevelt Island, when you met," Finch said pointing to a dot on the map of New York.

"He moves, stops for a moment, leaves the island apparently in a car… Check what happens next."

John and Mozzie were staring at the monitor. The signal was going southward, stopped for a few seconds, then moved again, northward this time, at a fast pace. The only sensible explanation for the sudden change in directions was that the anklet had been removed from Neal's ankle, then thrown, apparently into another car, judging by the speed of movement.

"Could you find a camera nearby, Finch?" John asked.

"Several, actually. Here, at that red light: the white van. Somebody takes his arm out of the window and throws something in the back of the pick-up going in the other direction. I would assume it is the anklet. The time of the direction change on the GPS and the time of the camera are the same. We know the pick-up is a dead end, since the FBI found Mr. Caffrey's anklet, which leaves the white van."

"If I am right, the van is now in a parking lot at La Guardia's airport. However, I cannot guarantee that the vehicle hasn't stopped on the way there."

"I'll go," John said, grabbing his motorcycle helmet.

Driving much faster than laws –or elementary safety– allowed, Reese went to the airport, feeling a growing dread. Neal had now disappeared several hours ago. The van at the airport didn't bode good news. Currently, Neal could already be on the other coast, or even abroad. He ran a light more red than orange, ignoring the car horns his speed produced.

In the library, Finch and Mozzie were watching the airport cameras trying to find Neal.

"Might as well look for a needle in a hay stack," Mozzie ranted, watching the flow of people in the halls.

"At least there is a hay stack in which to look," Finch countered, launching a facial recognition program.

"Why Finch?" Mozzie asked without preamble, still looking at the screen.

"Why what?" the IT genius asked, not understanding the question.

"Why a bird name?" As Finch raised an innocent eyebrow, Mozzie carried on relentlessly, "it is obviously an alias. There is usually a story connected to the names we choose, unlike the ones we get at birth."

"Mozzie?"

"Mozart, my teddy bear," Mozz admitted with a surprising openness.

Finch straightened. The admittance was so unexpected, and the secret so touching, that he felt compelled to answer. And most surprising, he realized he didn't mind that much, despite his ferocious need to keep his privacy. John had been right when he had told him a year ago that the two men had a lot in common.

"My father and I spent hours looking at the birds back at the farm…" he whispered with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

Silence stretched, both men's eyes glued to the screen, lost in personal memories.

"You must feel at home with our hay stack then," Mozzie joked trying to cheer the suddenly heavy atmosphere.

Finch gave him a small smile, appreciating the effort, and went back to studying the images.

When he got to the airport, Reese called his employer.

"Finch, where's the van?"

Following the GPS of the ex-agent's phone, Finch directed him to a far off parking zone area. John parked his motorbike some distance away, removed his helmet and took his gun in his hand. He approached slowly, studying the area, making sure no one was around.

He got to the van and circled it before opening the back door. He jumped inside and observed the floor. Plastic ties were thrown in a corner, but what surprised him was a heap of brown hair.

He crouched and picked-up a lock. The color and length looked like Neal's.

"Finch, can I talk to Mozzie?"

"Yes, John?"

"Mozzie, I haven't seen Neal since last year. Did he cut his hair?"

"You're kidding! That hair of his is a real girl's magnet. You'd need to get him in a straightjacket to cut it."

John winced. That wasn't good. A hair clipper had been discarded under a seat.

"I'm afraid they didn't ask for his approval."

He took a picture with his phone and sent it to Finch.

"Looks like his hair, right?" he asked to confirm his hunch.

Mozzie paled and couldn't answer. Finch put a sympathetic hand on his arm.

"I'm afraid it is, Mr. Reese," he answered in a gloomy voice.

Mozzie took a deep breath.

"We need to go over the images again. We are looking for a man with a very short haircut apparently."

The two men turned back to the screen.

"There!" Mozzie said suddenly a while later.

Finch froze the image, watching it carefully.

A slim man, asleep, with a buzz cut, was sitting in a wheel chair, pushed by a nurse in full uniform. With his short hair, a light blanket covering most of his body, Neal was almost impossible to recognize. Mozzie felt his throat tighten. Neal would have never accepted to get his hair cut that short, it had been literally shaved! If anyone told him again that Neal had run away, he was going to start answering with his fists.

"Oh Neal…" he said, his voice catching.

Once he had found him, Finch easily followed him through the airport.

"Mr. Reese, Mr. Caffrey was taken on board a private plane. I'll try to access the flight plan."

"I'm coming back, Finch. Have the Falcon standing by and call Shaw; we might need her help."

 

* * *

 

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_Laredo (Texas), Wednesday 6:00 pm, local time_

Neal came back to his senses, pasty mouthed and foggy. He blinked several times, rotating his head slowly. He tried to move and realized he was tied to a chair. His heart raced suddenly and he pulled on his hands in an attempt to free himself.

"Hello, Mr. Caffrey. Glad to have you back," said a voice with a slight southern drawl.

Neal stopped struggling and looked the tall frame in front of him. A dark haired man, with a classy linen suit was standing in front of him. He approached Neal opening a bottle of water.

"Here, you must be thirsty."

Neal hesitated for a brief second, then gladly accepted the offer, quenching the thirst he hadn't immediately realized. He sat back against the chair, and looked at the man in front of him, waiting for him to talk.

The stranger watched him in silence, maybe hoping for Neal to complain or ask questions, then had a satisfied nod when he only got silence.

"I haven't been lied to," he simply stated.

He sat in an arm chair and crossed his hands, his forefingers touching as if he was about to embark in a long lecture.

"Mr. Caffrey, I know you probably have a lot of questions. I will do my best to answer most of them. I may not be able to tell you everything this evening."

He watched at Neal's closed face.

"Yes. I did kidnap you, this morning. It is now 6:00 pm. You are probably dehydrated, so please ask me for more water if you want any."

"Where are we?" Neal asked, ignoring the offer for water.

"Good… Talking at last," the man answered with a smile. "In Texas."

Neal opened his eyes wide and cast a look at his ankle. He was so used to seeing the anklet that its absence was always surprising.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Alvaredo. I am, just like you, an art lover."

He pointed to the walls of the room and Neal watched the paintings more closely. They were unknown to him, yet the themes and techniques looked like some of the great masters. Unconsciously he moved forward to see them better.

"I see you are interested. You will be able to admire them up close, don't worry."

Neal had his eyes focused on a painting in particular. It was a Velasquez, he would bet on it, yet the painting was unknown to him.

Alvaredo let a little chuckle escape.

"So you are intrigued by the Velasquez… It is an original; you will be able to confirm it later. Mr. Caffrey, I am deeply fascinated by the unknown pieces of art of our great masters, those no one or only a very few have seen. The human eye corrupts the value of the artist's work. For decades, I have been searching our planet for disappeared sculptures, unknown paintings, the works of art that everyone has forgotten. They have a very special value; they are virgin of the comments and criticism of mankind."

Neal couldn't help raising an eyebrow at the explanation. He had met quite a few collectors in his past, all passionate about art, but the reasons of his abductor were surprising, if not slightly upsetting…

"As you can imagine, finding such pieces is a very long process, requiring a lot of research and patience. I have been studying you for a long time; I've always found your particular talents fascinating." He stopped for a moment and looked at Neal right in the eyes. "Mr. Caffrey, I want to make you a job offer."

"I work for the FBI."

"No, you are a prisoner of the FBI. And although you should legitimately be free, they have decided to keep you and exploit your gifts."

Neal clenched his teeth, fighting the sudden anger. He still hadn't got over his last conversation with Peter. He had been so sure the attorney general was going to release him.

A predatory smile flew over his kidnaper's lips.

"Hum… you agree with me," he said rising.

He took the water bottle he had set on the table and put it to Neal's lips, who accepted it greedily.

"Mr. Caffrey, for the moment you still are my prisoner; I would love to see you as a guest. I think you must be hungry, so I'll explain the reasons of your presence here while we have dinner. This property is a fortress, protected by former military guards, cameras…" He moved his hand as if bored by the details, "don't think you can get out alive if I haven't decided so beforehand."

He came closer and put a hand to the cuffs on Neal's wrists. The CI realized that the ties were conceived so as not to hurt him, even if he had fought violently. Apparently Alvaredo needed him in good shape.

"I'm going to ask for your word that you will not try to run away before I am done talking with you, then I will untie you."

Neal winced. "I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"

Alvaredo shrugged, a fake sorry smile on his face.

"I will not try to escape, you have my word," Neal mumbled reluctantly.

"Fine."

He removed the cuffs and pointed to the table. It was set for two and a maître d' had just entered with a tray. Neal rose and moaned when a twinge went through his right leg. He rubbed the area, surprised by the unexplained sudden pain.

"Oh, right. I have been told that the area might be sensitive for a couple of days."

Neal raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I didn't know if you would cooperate, so I fit you with a GPS transmitter. The anklets used by the FBI are far too easy to remove, as you well know," he said pointing to Neal's ankle. "This one is much more subtle. It is embedded in your thigh, deep enough that you cannot remove it yourself should you decide to try. Only a surgeon can remove it. But don't worry, I have very professional staff to take care of it when the time comes."

Giving up on any futile complaint, Neal sighed and went to the table. He hadn't realized he was hungry, but when he saw the food his stomach made itself remember. He was actually starving.

Despite the hunger, he forced himself to eat slowly, Alvaredo keeping an appraising eye on him.

"Mr. Caffrey, have you ever heard of the 'Noche Triste'?"

Neal frowned trying to remember why the name sounded familiar.

"The Aztecs' victory over Cortes?"

His kidnaper had a huge satisfied smile.

"Working with you is going to be a real pleasure, Mr. Caffrey."

The contrary was certainly not true, but Neal kept silent. What did this man want?

Alvaredo nodded.

"The Noche Triste belongs to the great battles in history, just like Little Big Horn or Waterloo… It is however much less famous. I own a very large collection of books about the Spanish conquest, you will be able to consult them as freely as you want. Let me remind you the main facts. In 1520, Cortes held the Aztec emperor, Moctezuma, prisoner and as such sort of governed the territory. This leadership wasn't part of the task the Spanish kingdom had assigned to him. During the spring, he had to leave to lead a battle and left his trusted lieutenant, Pedro de Alvaredo, in charge."

He had a small smile when he saw the spark in Neal's eyes, then carried on.

"A few days after his departure, nobles and priests were celebrating a festival in the city's main temple. Knowing their taste for human sacrifices, Alvaredo was convinced the Aztecs were going to kill them and took a preemptive action by killing some 2000 Indians. Of course, when the people couldn't hear the drums anymore they realized something was wrong. They attacked the fortress. A few days later, Cortes came back from his battle. The Aztecs let him get through then laid siege to the Spanish in the fortress. Running out of ammunition and water, the situation was delicate. When Moctezuma was killed, Cortes feared for their lives and decided to escape. They took all the gold and silver they could, then let the soldiers help themselves to as much riches as they wanted."

Alvaredo stopped and sipped some wine, while a waiter cleared the dishes and brought desert.

"On the 30th of June 1520 at night, the Spanish left the city silently, using the paved road across the causeway, using a portable bridge to go over the destroyed bridges. The Aztecs surprised them and the fight was ferocious. The soldiers burdened by the gold fell into the water and drowned; men and horses were slaughtered by the Indians. A handful of men managed to escape and survive, among which Cortes and Alvaredo. The following year, Cortes led a new battle that would eventually lead to the Aztecs' demise and the creation of the future Mexico city."

Neal was listening attentively. He remembered having read the story before, but had forgotten most details. What had caught his attention though was the name of Cortes' lieutenant, the same as his host, Alvaredo…

The man put his glass down and smiled.

"What history does not tell is what my ancestor did…"

So there was a connection, thought Neal.

"Alvaredo was in the rear guard and was miraculously saved thanks to an impressive jump using his spear. His name is known in history because of this jump. What has been ignored is that he saw the place where the cart with the treasure fell into the lake. When Cortes troops won over the city the following year, Alvaredo started looking for the treasure. It still was underwater. He had paid dearly for his life, so he decided he had owned it. With time, he managed to get the loot and hid it."

"Later on, he left the city and went up north, to a secluded place on the other side of the Rio Grande. He hid the treasure and drew a map with the necessary information to find it. When he died, he left the parchment to his daughter. Time and generations went by, the parchment remained in the family and everyone forgot what it stood for. Until some twenty years ago, that document was just a family heirloom, reminding us about the past of our ancestors. No one recalled that it was actually a treasure map."

Alvaredo took a spoonful of his desert and savored the sweet taste, lost in his thoughts.

"Mysteries have always been my passion, Mr. Caffrey. That's how I came to gather the art that I own. The day I realized I had the greatest treasures of all right in my hands, I couldn't believe it. The secluded place my ancestor moved to is now the town of Laredo. I have been able to identify the older village limits and have purchased the land. Somewhere inside the property or over the hundred acres around it and that belong to me, lies Alvaredo's treasure. I need someone to decipher the parchment and tell me where to dig."

"Why do you think I could do it? From what I gather, I wouldn't be the first one to try."

"I have seen how you broke the secret of the Mosconi codex. You are quite resourceful."

"What do I stand to win?"

"Your freedom, Mr. Caffrey."

Neal gave him a skeptical look.

"From the documents I have been able to gather, I found out that the treasure is made of gold and silver bars. There is also a Shaman mask. That is the only piece I'm interested in. You can keep everything else. You should be able to buy yourself your own island this time."

"And if I reject the offer?"

"I'll give you an alternative –accept to fully engage in this quest and you will be totally free. The transmitter you carry guarantees that you remain in the vicinity. You will be allowed to leave the property, go to town; you will see Mexican girls are quite friendly. You will have all the tools, documents, any information you may need. You will be my honored guest, hosted with all the comforts and luxury available in this property. Or you can decline, and I will break you until you give up. And believe me, Mr. Caffrey, I will break you. No one has ever resisted me in the past."

Alvaredo watched him with cold eyes.

"I know your exceptional talents for escape. I need to show you a specific aspect of your transmitter."

He retrieved a small black device from his pocket. He pushed a button and Neal screamed reaching for his leg with his hand.

"The government and all those so-called humanitarian organization do not approve of the use of this kind of device. They state them as inhuman; but we both know you're not a human, just a criminal, don't you agree, Mr. Caffrey?"

He let go of the button and Neal remained folded in two, trying to get his breath back. The transmitter had generated a violent electrical discharge. The way it had coursed through his entire body proved it had been placed close to a nerve.

"One last piece of information, the discharge I generated is only half the possible power. Think about it before you have any stupid idea."

Neal straightened up slowly.

"Don't answer now. I will have you shown to your room. Rest and think about it. We will meet again tomorrow evening. That should give you enough time to think about my offer."

Alvaredo rose and a hand man came in. Neal followed him limping.

* * *

 

Neal was lying on the bed in the dark, eyes glued to the ceiling he could make out in the darkness.

For the past two hours, he had been weighing pros and cons. Although, he didn't really have much of a choice…

The easiest solution was to tell Alvaredo he agreed. Then, if the parchment was that difficult to translate, he would have time to find a way out.

But the more he thought about it, the more Alvaredo's offer was tempting…

When Peter had told him his release had been denied, he had felt the world crumbling around him. He had been so sure of the outcome, he hadn't considered even for one second such an answer. That's when he had decided to leave everything behind.

Mozzie was supposed to help him, but did it make a difference if the solution came from another source? If the treasure was as huge as Alvaredo said, he would be set for the rest of his life. He could start a new life, create a new identity far from his criminal past. Who knew? Maybe get an interesting job, while having a total freedom thanks to the loot. A normal life. Maybe a wife, kids…

He couldn't help a moan thinking of Rebecca. He hated her. And to think that Sara had left him. Mozzie was probably right, he and women…

Mozzie! He was probably going crazy. By this time, the FBI had obviously already launched a major man's hunt. Peter was probably convinced he had run after their last meeting… He was pretty sure Peter could find him eventually… but did he want to be found?

He rose, frustrated and angry. He went to the door and was surprised when the knob turned under his hand. He had been pretty sure he would have been locked in. He went outside, letting his feet lead him across the garden. He arrived to a little pond. The moon shone on the water and the frogs held a noisy concert. One of them jumped from a rock into the water, leaving perfect rings behind it.

Neal sighed, letting the calm setting soothe him. There were, after all, worse things in life than holidays in a luxury property while deciphering an old Aztec parchment…

In the shadows, a guard was keeping a silent vigil.

* * *

 

TBC…

_A/N: If you wonder, the facts of the "Noche Triste" are historical and happened as described by Alvaredo. We obviously made up the story about the treasure…_


	4. Chapter 4

New York, Thursday 2:00 am, Finch's library

Sitting at his desk, Finch's fingers flew over the keyboard to find the information on the private flight. Mozzie was observing him, astounded by the speed at which the IT genius had just hacked the civil aviation server to find the destination to which Neal was being taken to. He was good himself, but Finch worked at a level way over his reach. Even Sally wasn't that good, he thought thinking dearly about the young woman.

When Reese came back to the library, Mozzie was pacing.

"Texas! They took him to Texas!" Mozzie exclaimed in an outraged burst, when he saw the tall silhouette enter.

John raised an eyebrow, surprised by the vehemence of their guest.

"Desert, snakes, cacti!" Mozzie carried on.

Deciding he didn't want to know the reasons why Mozzie hated that particular state, Reese turned to his employer.

"Finch, any news?"

"Private jets flight plans are a bit more complicated to get than commercial ones. As Mozzie just informed you, Mr. Caffrey has been taken towards Texas. I am still trying to find the exact location."

John nodded and looked at his watch. "Any way, we won't be able to leave for a few hours…"

"By the way, Finch, the van's plate number is 19076-JI. You may get something out of it."

"Thank you, Mr. Reese. It is probably a fake number, I will check it once I have located the plane," Finch replied.

A few moments later, a message popped up on one of the screens.

##Do not neglect the van. 'She' thinks it could be important. Root##

At first surprised by the message, Finch started a check in the plates registrations data base he had just hacked, knowing that ignoring Ms. Groves' messages was never a good strategy.

* * *

 

Finch had his eyes glued to the screens. After the long quest, the blip of the computer was welcome. He finally had a solid trail.

The blip woke Reese up; he had dozed for a few minutes on a chair. Mozzie was sleeping in one of the rooms.

"So, Finch? You've got a location?" Reese asked with a sleepy voice.

"Yes, Laredo, Texas. More specifically, Rancho Blanco airport. I also have the registration for the plane. With that information I should be able to find the owner's name, hopefully," Finch answered.

John turned toward the library's entrance, giving a light amused smile to the person entering.

"Ready to meet cowboys, Shaw?"

Shaw raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Ready for a new assignment?" John explained.

"Depends… I was kind of hoping to take a break; it better be important," she answered coldly.

"You remember Neal Caffrey?" John asked.

Shaw mulled for a minute, then nodded.

"The FBI's CI. You bent quite a few of your own rules that time, if I remember right. A lot of bodies to get rid of. So?"

"Apparently Caffrey is in trouble again; maybe a kidnapping," John added.

"And what's with the cowboys?"

Finch pointed to the printer.

"Laredo, Texas, is not a large town. You will need a good cover to blend in. I prepared some identification. Eleonore and Ted Delmott, a rich business couple from New York en route to Cabo San Luca. Unfortunately, a technical problem will force your pilot to land in Laredo. I made sure the presidential suite of the Posada hotel will be available when you need it."

"Eleonore?" Shaw scoffed looking at Finch.

John turned to the short woman.

"Sorry about the setback, honey. I do realize Laredo has nothing in common with Cabo San Luca."

As expected, Shaw shot him a dark look and left the room to prepare her stuff grumbling, "all I needed. Pack a suitcase with fancy city chick stuff…"

Finch looked at John with a light wince.

"I realize you're probably not very happy sharing a room with Ms. Shaw, that's why I'm booking the suite. You will have separate rooms."

"I had undercover operations much worse than that, Finch." He gave the man a tight smile. "I will survive sharing quarters with Shaw for a few days."

"Of course, it is not Ms. Morgan…" Finch mumbled.

John gaped at the man at the computer. He had never mentioned his relationship with Zoe, while guessing that he probably knew about it. Finch usually didn't make any personal comment; that light pique was surprising. Not knowing what to do about it, he just pretended he hadn't heard him.

He raked his hand through his head. He needed to get his stuff ready. Rich business man suits would be easy thanks to the clothes Finch provided him with; he needed weapons too. And a coffee. It was 3:00 am and he wasn't about to get any rest soon.

"I heard you. I'm coming too," Mozzie said, covering a yawn with a hand.

"No, I certainly don't think so. Things might get hectic if Neal is indeed held against his will."

"WHAT? You still have doubts? All the more reasons for me to go with you!" Mozzie yelled.

"And what will you do if he has been brain washed? If he turns against you? Mozzie, Shaw and I are trained for this, please let us do our work."

"He's my friend. I have known him for years; I taught him everything…" Mozzie's voice broke. If anything happened to Neal…

John sighed, going toward the room where he kept his weapons. He stopped by a room full of books.

"All right," he agreed. He pointed to the shelves. "The flight to Texas is going to be long, why don't you get some reading?"

Mozzie's eyes glowed looking at the books. "Really? Finch is ok with that?"

"These ones, yes," John answered smoothly. He pointed to a corner, "the conspiracy theories books are on the top row."

As expected, Mozzie didn't need to be asked twice and moved forward, all the while mumbling, "most likely propaganda…" He turned suddenly when he heard the door close and the typical click of a padlock.

"No!" he screamed.

"Mozzie, I really don't have time to explain all the reasons why I'm right doing this. Finch will free you in a few hours. Enjoy your reading."

Not paying attention to the birds' names Mozzie was now using, he left to get ready for an operation for which he didn't have a clue.

* * *

 

While his employees were getting ready, Finch had followed the trails of the plane and the van.

What he was discovering was deeply upsetting. Following the trail of the van up to a renting agency in New York had taken an unorderly amount of time. He had been facing one front company after another. When he had thought he had reached the end of the trail, a new connection showed up.

He had never seen anything like it. Yet he was good at covering his own tracks. However, his own schemes were much simpler than the ones he was facing now. Somebody, or some organization, was going through a whole lot of trouble to cover its tracks.

Finding the "real" owner of the plane had been almost as complicated. A company, owning several ones, owning more of them… He had finally made it to a company headquartered in San Antonio, Texas. Was it just a coincidence the plane had landed in the same state?

He didn't know what to make of this. He then had an intuition. He coded a search to compare the companies that had appeared on both financial set ups.

The computer confirmed his hunch. The two companies had some of the same shareholders. But it was like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. To find these two companies, he had found names for thirty different ones.

Who would need to hide their traces that far?

The phone ringing interrupted his musings.

"Ms. Groves, I wasn't expecting a call from you. What can I do for you?" Finch asked politely.

"Harold, 'She' told me you followed my advice and checked the van," Root answered.

"Indeed. I have never seen anything this complex. It's going to be a real challenge to find the sole owner of all those companies. For the moment they all own each other at some point," Harold explained.

"'She' tells me you need to keep following the branches. 'She' suggests to extend the search on the international level; it might actually help us better understand the menace," Root added.

"We are kind of busy right now, Ms. Groves. I don't have the time to hack all the companies' databases on a worldwide level," Finch answered back.

"Harold, you keep underestimating us. I'm sending you a secure IP address that will give you access to servers we have set up, somewhere. It will lead you to all kind of information data bases. I'm telling you, finding the people who kidnapped your friend might reveal the missing link to understand the menace as a whole," Root mysteriously explained.

"Thank you, Ms. Groves. Good evening," Finch answered ending the call.

Though weary of this human-machine relationship, Finch entered the IP address. He was astounded by the result. Root and her friends had set up links, remarkably well protected, to access all kind of databases: business registers from several countries, treasury information, even intelligence services servers… He had all the elements necessary to research the shareholders of companies on a worldwide scale.

He decided to start checking the names of the companies he had come across previously. Then he designed a program to get the results, and how he wanted them: a diagram showing all the connections between the different companies.

"Finch?" his employee's voice said on the phone

"Yes, Mr. Reese," he answered immediately.

"Unless you have anything more for me, I'll go pick up Shaw and we'll be going to the airport," Reese said. "Please extend my apologies to Mozzie."

"It's too early to take off yet."

"I know. I'd like to spend some time with the crew to prepare the emergency landing in Laredo."

"All right, be careful," Finch advised.

He had decided not to tell him about his conversation with Root and his ongoing research. He would wait to better understand what was going on.

* * *

 

John and Shaw moved as shadows and quickly entered the Falcon.

Reese was happy to find Dirk waiting for him. The handshake was sincere.

"Dirk, glad to see you again," John said with a smile.

"John. You sure know how to choose your company every time you get on this plane. You introduce me?" the pilot answered with a happy voice.

"Dirk, Shaw – Shaw, Dirk."

Shaw only nodded her greetings and went to get a seat.

"Not the talkative kind, right?"

"Don't take it personally. She's just like that, but on the field, she's the best."

"If I understood correctly, we are on our way to Mexico, with a stopover in Laredo, Texas," Dirk said.

"Sorry Dirk, you won't be seeing the beaches this time. Our real destination is Laredo. Cabo San Luca is only a decoy," John explained.

"Okay. What Jay told me makes more sense. We need to pretend a technical problem and request to land in Laredo. It needs to be serious enough so as not to attract any undue attention," Dirk summarized, amused by the situation.

"Exactly. Can you come up with something that will force us to wait several days?" John asked.

"Shouldn't be a problem. A failure in the electrical system with cut off our navigational instruments. They'll be forced to let us land," Dirk answered seriously.

"You still will be able to land safely, right?" John asked.

"Yes. Old fashioned on sight landing, no computers. It's good to check we can still do it from time to time," Dirk answered, amused by the worried look on his passenger face.

As he went towards the pilot cabin, Dirk turned around.

"By the way, when I've been told you were the passenger, I took some… tools. Just in case."

John nodded watching him settle in his seat, before he sat from departure.

* * *

 

Once the take-off of the Falcon was confirmed, Finch went to the room where Reese had locked Mozzie. He stood by the door, watching Caffrey's friend, remembering the days Root had been locked in that same place.

Mozzie was reading, mumbling insults against the book. He looked up when he heard the door open. Finch was expecting to see him rush to the door, but Mozzie only put his book down and looked at him, probably expecting some kind of apology or explanation.

"Ms. Shaw and Mr. Reese's methods come from a common past in a world…"

Finch hesitated. He didn't want to reveal too many things, yet feeling like he had to be at least a bit sincere with Mozzie. After all, the man had just been thrown in a totally unexpected situation, his best friend was in danger, himself was locked inside a library.

"I think the word you are looking for is 'international espionage'…" Mozzie offered.

Finch winced.

"Come on. It is pretty obvious, Finch! At least when you look a bit closely. The way they move, how they don't miss a thing, how they are hyper attentive… And I won't mention their military arsenal." He frowned suddenly. "Aren't you afraid they'll blow up the library some day?"

Finch couldn't help a small smile, remembering how he had asked the same question to John. Mozzie smiled back when he saw the face.

"Yes, you are worried…"

"Approximately three minutes after he met you, Mr. Reese told me I had to meet you, that we had a lot in common. To be honest, that was not how I perceived you the first time I saw you. I must admit now…

"He's just like Neal. They can feel a person with single glance and never be wrong… almost never," he added with a wince thinking how Rebecca had fooled him.

"Yes, I'll admit having more trouble with human interaction."

Mozzie winced at the wording, "yeah…"

"I am sure Mr. Reese and Ms. Shaw will do their best to free Mr. Caffrey. Sometimes, I'd rather not know about the means. Take my word for it, we sleep better at night."

"'free'… At least, you believe me when I say Neal didn't disappear willingly," Mozzie said with a sour smile.

"Mr. Reese needs to intervene with a fully objective mind, no preconceived idea. The contrary can prove quite dangerous," Finch whispered, thinking how saving Charlie Burton had turned into a nightmare.

Mozzie rose and followed Finch to the main room. The gentle hum of the computers was almost soothing. Or maybe the feeling was only due to the fact that, thanks to these machines, Neal did stand a little chance to make it out alive.

"He was so sure he was going to be released…" he said, not knowing if he was trying to justify their decision to disappear or if he just needed to talk so as not to think too much about Neal's current situation.

"Could you clarify what happened, please?"

Finch had heard John and Mozzie talking at Neal's home, but he hadn't paid much attention to the details.

"Neal asked for an early release, which should have been easily granted due to his file. The services he rendered to the FBI more than justify it. Even Burke had given his support. It was a done deal. And then…" Mozzie made an explosive gesture with his hands.

"They denied it," Finch concluded.

"No. It's worse than that. They admitted that Neal's help was precious. So precious actually that they cannot, they do not want to let him go. Because he has been the poster boy for reform, more efficient than their own agents, they decided to keep him prisoner for life!" Mozzie exploded. "They accuse Neal of being a criminal, but the greatest criminal in this story is actually the FBI!"

Finch pursed his lips. He had studied Caffrey's file. In his opinion, the former thief had more than proven his value and totally deserved the release, despite a few shady areas in his life, but Finch wasn't the best one to start throwing stones.

He sat by his computer and started typing, "let's have a look at the FBI file…" he suggested.

The smile that appeared on Mozzie's face illuminated the room.

"Can I help?" he asked. Nothing could thrill him more than hacking the government database.

* * *

 

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

_Laredo, Tx, Thursday 8:00 am, Alvaredo's property_

Neal was on the terrace, enjoying the sun and the breakfast he had been served.

"Good morning, Mr. Caffrey. I didn't think I'd see you this early."

"Not that early for me," Neal explained.

"Of course." Alvaredo pointed to the chair. "May I?"

Neal had a light chuckle. "It is your home!"

"I don't want to impose. I told you I would give you until this evening to make your decision; I am a man of my word."

"So am I," Neal answered. "Mr. Alvaredo, I accept your offer."

A huge grin broke on Alvaredo's face, but Neal could see his eyes mostly showed the satisfaction of having won.

"You'll see, life is nice in Laredo."

Alvaredo helped himself to coffee and watched Neal over his cup.

"Tell me what you need and I'll get it for you. No limit."

"No limit?" Neal asked in surprise.

"As long as you stay within a radius of approximately twenty miles around the property." He remained silent for a second. "Quite a stretch from your previous two miles, right?" He asked, probably expecting thanks.

Neal shrugged lightly. "I guess the transmitter is non-negotiable?"

"Mr. Caffrey…" Alvaredo reproached in a soft tone.

Neal smiled coldly. "I had to ask."

Alvaredo put down his cup, suddenly excited. "Come with me. I'll show it to you."

Not giving him time to finish his breakfast, he led Neal through the huge house to large office with a flowered terrace. Keeping all that greenery in this desert probably cost a small fortune.

Alvaredo went to a door at the end of the room and gave him a code as he punched a keypad. "This is the code for this week. I change it quite often. Memorize it; you are not allowed to write it in any way."

A ten digit alphanumeric code. Alvaredo didn't mess with security.

Expecting to see a safe, Neal was surprised when they entered a room almost as big as the office.

"My secret lair. No one enters this room. Not even the maids. You will excuse the dust."

"You'll always be here while I work?" Neal asked frowning.

He didn't relish the idea of having somebody above his shoulder all day long.

"No, you will be granted free access."

Alvaredo went to a wooden chest and opened the lid reverently. Inside a glass box protected the parchment. It looked sealed, no opening system was visible.

Neal approached slowly, conscious of the value of the object. Even if it wasn't really a treasure map, the document was almost 500 years old…

The parchment was roughly twenty five inches by twenty. Several Aztec symbols were drawn. Time had left brown traces on the material.

"You have the translation of the symbols?"

"No."

"Sorry?" Neal asked taken aback. "I thought I wasn't the first one to try and decipher the message."

"Exactly. And I don't want the previous failures to mislead you. You will start afresh, with no previous hypotheses." He pointed to a huge book on a table. "That is a dictionary. The translations done so far made no sense. Start from a clean slate."

Neal put a hand on the glass protecting the document. He was going to spend hours just looking for the meaning of the pictograms…

"You'll come back later. For now, follow me," he said leaving the room.

They went back toward the wing where Neal had spent the night. Instead of stopping by the room, Alvaredo led him to the end of the hallway. He opened the door to a luxurious suite.

"Your room. You will find clothes in the closet. I think you should appreciate the choices made."

Neal was drawn by the walk-in closet. He could have been at his place. He would have sworn some of the clothes were his own if the tags weren't still attached.

"How long have you being spying on me?" he asked as his fingers picked up a summer hat.

"Mr. Caffrey, that parchment has been in my family for almost half a millenium, a few months won't make much of a difference."

Nice way to deflect, which meant this had probably started even before Rebecca appeared. Neal clenched his teeth in anger. Why was he thinking about that again? He had to forget about that story; it belonged to the past, a past he wanted to forget as soon as possible.

"I'll let you settle in, make yourself comfortable. As I said before, you manage your own agenda. My wife will be back from Dallas in the afternoon, I would like you to join us for dinner."

"Very well."

Alvaredo watched him a moment, squinting his eyes as if trying to judge his loyalty. He was a smart man; he probably realized Neal had agreed too easily.

"Give yourself some time. You will see, Texas can be quite fascinating. This unplanned stay may bring you some nice surprises."

He nodded to Neal, then left the room.

* * *

 

Prisoner of a golden cage… But at the end of the time, the prize was everything Neal had always wanted. He just needed to make sure to reach it soon. And if he was to be totally honest with himself, solving a puzzle that had baffled specialists for decades was a challenge he couldn't resist.

He decided to change his clothes. This morning, he had just put his suit back. But now, he might as well indulge with the generous wardrobe he had been given. His New York suit was not ideal for the Texan climate.

Once dressed, he went back to the working room. Alvaredo, talking on the phone on the terrace, only vaguely nodded to him.

Neal bent over the parchment. He would have loved to be able to take it in his hands, but his new employer had been very clear on that aspect: the object could not be removed from its protective glass case.

Obviously, his ancestors hadn't been that cautious. A big humidity stain darkened the middle of the document. He bent to determine the exact material of the parchment. Some sort of animal leather, probably deer. The tanning was good but it was handmade. The parchment seemed authentic.

He watched the drawings closely. Pre-Colombian history wasn't his forte and as far as deciphering went, the real expert was Mozzie. Maybe Alvaredo hadn't studied his target that closely.

Neal couldn't help a light chuckle.

No, the real genius was Mozzie who had managed to hide his own existence, leaving Neal under the spotlights. But in this case, it might prove deadly. How long was Alvaredo going to keep him before he gave up? What would he do with Neal if he didn't achieve his task? What had happened to his predecessors?

He shivered slightly, but it had nothing to do with the conditioned air of the room.

The Aztec writing was a particularly complicated glyphic writing system, based on pictograms, ideograms and phonograms, as well as phonetic rebuses. He fervently hoped the map designer had mostly used pictographs, as finding out the meaning of ideographs was going to take forever.

Long lines of green glyphs were drawn on each side and one on the bottom of the parchment. In the middle, isolated drawings doted the document, some of them discolored by the humidity.

He decided to start with one of the major glyphs. It was positioned right at the edge of the darker zone. It was bigger than the other ones and was composed of several pictograms. The symbols were therefore meant as a rebus to form a compound word. A sort of three branched cactus, with hairy circles on the top, above some sort of bag, set upon a golden rectangle. Having memorized the drawing he opened the big dictionary on the table.

He was quite surprised when he actually found the symbol easily. Close enough, anyway. The golden rectangle didn't appear in the dictionary, but it might have been added for extra meaning. The glyph read "Tenochtitlan".

If the drawing hadn't been Aztec, Neal would have assumed the rectangle was a gold bar.

But the Aztec didn't use gold bars. The Spanish conquerors had melted huge quantities of gold and silver to carry it back to the old continent. What if Alvaredo Sr had adapted the Aztec writing by adding a "new" word to it? It that case, the glyph could certainly be translated by "the gold of Tenochtitlan".

"Tenochtitlan's gold," Neal whispered.

It made sense. So apparently he had just found the title of the parchment. Which was consistent with Alvaredo's tale. The parchment did indeed give the location of the treasure…

Happy and encouraged by the discovery, Neal started translating the other symbols. The easiest ones, the isolated pictograms. He would work later on the long lines of symbols that were probably full sentences.

Focused on his search, he didn't see the time go by. He grumbled as he slowly found the meaning of the glyphs. He couldn't understand why Alvaredo had refused to give him the translations done before. What was the point in spending hours looking for a single word? He spent most of the day looking for the meaning of the ideograms when he could have just worked on the translation to make a sense of it.

When he finally had the symbols' translation, it didn't mean anything. He looked at the glyphs and the translation again.

He sighed. So this was why the document had specialists baffled for so long. Alvaredo Sr had apparently codded the glyphs. What kind of cyphering system was in use in the 16th century? This was an enigma for Mozzie…

Picking-up another book, he bent over the glyphs again. His stay in Texas was bound to be very long…

* * *

 

_Laredo, Tx, Thursday 8:00 am, international airport, private flights terminal_

The plan had gone without a glitch; the Falcon was now being led towards a maintenance area in the international airport of Laredo.

Once on site, the pilots took charge, explaining their technical problem. An appointment was agreed for the following day, the local technicians being busy with another jet that had to leave in the morning.

As for Shaw, she played her bitchy rich wife's role to perfection, yelling after the pilots and her husband in front of everyone. And she seemed to have fun with it.

John also kept his role, glued to his phone, pretending to yell at his secretary to get a car with a chauffeur immediately, a room in the best hotel, and asking her to call the client he was supposed to meet in Cabo San Luca.

The airport employees finally left the plane, and silence immediately filled the cabin. The four people looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

Once they had sobered, John turned to the pilots.

"How long do you think you can keep the plane down?"

Jay answered the question.

"At least two days. The part I just broke isn't usually kept in main airports, so I doubt there is one here. We'll need to have it sent by courier. That should give you three days. If you need more delay, I have a couple of ideas. Planes are tricky little things."

They heard a car approaching. The car rental employee was bringing a flashy BMW.

"Where's the chauffeur?" Shaw asked drily, going down the steps.

"Mrs. Delmott, we are very sorry, but we do not offer that kind of service in Laredo," the employee answered, visibly paling.

"Ted! For heaven's sake, do something! Stop pretending everything is fine. Show them who we are!" she yelled, while the employee cowered.

"Honey, you have to realize this is a little town. We're not in New York," the tall man coming down answered very calmly.

"The car is okay. Give me the keys, I will drive."

The employee promptly gave him the key with a shaking hand, said good bye and went back towards the terminal as fast as he could without actually running.

"Shaw, you missed your calling. You would have made a great actress!" John commented as he went back inside the plane.

He turned to Dirk.

"Can you go to the rental agency and get us another car, more discreet? This car isn't made for tailing."

"Sure. I'll get it to the hotel," the pilot answered promptly.

* * *

 

Forty minutes later, the concierge from the Posada hotel saw Mr. and Mrs. Delmott enter the hall. He could see the woman was quite angry at being stuck in their little town. He knew they had had to land because of a technical problem; he would do his best to make her forget the inconvenience.

They had been lucky, a last minute cancellation had left their best suite available. He hoped the wife would be satisfied.

The concierge was closing the door to the Presidential Suite after presenting its main amenities: over 900 square feet, a hot tub in the main room, an exceptional view on the park and the Rio Grande, a personnel chef for their meals, fitness center…

He shook his head disappointed; Mrs. Delmott had been totally deaf to the suite's luxury; her only words had been: "and to think that I should be enjoying a massage with Ben on the beach in Cabo, all I get instead is desert!"

Fortunately, his husband was much more understanding and thanked him, handing him a very nice tip.

* * *

 

After they had changed clothes, John and Shaw were about to leave when there was a knock at the door. Shaw already had her hand on her gun, but it was only Dirk bringing the keys to the second car. He told them they had rooms in the same hotel, and had rented a car for themselves. John thanked him and set a meeting the following day to get an update on the repairs.

The two ex-agents were now sitting in the gardens of the hotel to enjoy a late breakfast. John had gone to the reception to get a map of the city and gather information on the whereabouts. They had to pretend they were rich tourists, stuck in a little town. The concierge advised them on the country club, by the lake.

During that time, Shaw was perusing the local newspaper. The only interesting thing was the "annual party" hosted by some rich local guy, named Alvaredo. Apparently, or so the journalist said, it was the "most expected event of the year".

She was wondering how they would start their search, when Finch called them.

"You like the room, Ms. Shaw?"

"Not nice enough for Mrs. Delmott. I expected better, Harold," she answered.

"Sorry, it is the best room in the area," Finch answered a bit drily.

"Finch, it was a joke. Apparently, this role suits me," Shaw said, feeling she might have gone a bit too far.

"Do you have any additional data, Finch?" John asked as he seated himself in front of Shaw.

"Yes. I just got some information," Finch answered. "One of the companies owning the plane that took Mr. Caffrey is headquartered in Laredo. I just sent you the address. You may find something there."

* * *

 

At the end of the afternoon, after hours of stake out in front of 150 Mahler Street, John and Shaw were still at the same point. Nothing had happened in the little building they had been casing.

Keeping an eye on the place had been tricky. Life in Laredo was quiet. Two people waiting in a car all day long was bound to get some stares.

Lucky for them, there was a restaurant right in front. Shaw had set up a computer, pretending to work. John had walked around the block. He had tried to get into the building but had decided to wait after he had spotted several cameras. They had just arrived; he didn't want to blow their cover just yet.

He had just met with Shaw again. As usual, he was astonished by the quantity of food she could eat for someone so small. He could count three ice cream wrappings, and some cake leftovers. At 6:30, she had just ordered a steak for dinner.

He was about to order food for himself, when things moved in the building. A man came out and got into the car that had just stopped by the curb.

They started tailing the car. The time of the day gave them the advantage of more cars on the roads, making it easier to follow discreetly. Still, John was careful.

Bob Bullock Loop took them to Texas University.

"John, slow down," Shaw said as she looked at the city map. "The roads are much scarcer from here; there are fewer cars too."

John complied and left more distance between the two cars. They were in a residential area; the car was bound to stop soon. Yet it kept going on.

It was starting to be a problem. There were only their two cars on the road now. John stopped and Shaw saw through the binoculars that the car had turned to the right.

John started again and turned right. A sign indicated "San Ignacio Creek". At least, they could pretend they were looking for that place if anyone stopped them.

However, they had lost the car. They couldn't see it anymore. John was about to turn around when Shaw ordered him to keep driving.

"The car has arrived. It just went through a huge gate," she explained at his raised eyebrow.

They sent the GPS coordinates to Finch hoping he would be able to find out who lived there, then drove back to the hotel.

* * *

 

Alvaredo was sitting at his desk in his office. Neal could hear him talk but couldn't make out the words, as if some sort of system isolated the sounds. Probably… The man seemed to be as paranoid as Mozzie, as the extensive security system around the property showed. He had also seen the cameras inside the house.

Neal was bent over his document when his employer came to the door.

"Mr. Caffrey, dinner is at 7:00."

Neal raised his head and looked at the clock on the wall. 6:30. Already? What had happened to the day? He only had time to freshen up a bit.

"In the dining room?" Neal asked.

He hadn't visited the place yet. He had had breakfast on the terrace, but he didn't know the habits of the owners.

"Indeed," Alvaredo answered.

When Neal entered the dining room thirty minutes later, Alvaredo was pouring a drink to a dark haired woman whose Mexican origins were visible.

"Mr. Caffrey, please come in," Alvaredo said with a smile. "Let me introduce you to my wife, the magician who transformed a piece of dusty desert into a tropical garden."

Neal came to her and took her hand to his lips. "Mrs. Alvaredo, nice to meet you."

"Alma, please."

"Neal."

"So you are my dear husband's latest specialist. Hector is fascinated by the past of his family. Finding out the story written in that parchment has turned into his own Holy Grail quest."

Neal cast a quick glance to Alvaredo whose face remained neutral. Apparently, Mrs. Alvaredo didn't know the whole truth about the parchment…

"I've got to admit that I like the idea that it cannot be deciphered. It keeps its secrets hidden forever," Alma added, having missing the glances between the two men.

"Men are curious by nature. Such a mystery is hard to resist," Neal answered. "A parchment written by a Spanish Conquistador is quite the inheritance. Finding out what it means would be the ultimate treasure."

"Alma, as I told you, Mr. Caffrey is also a talented artist. I asked him to paint a portrait of the two of us. I'll let the two of you see where you want it to be," Alvaredo informed them.

"What a charming idea!" She turned to Neal. "We'll have to visit the gardens together. You'll let me know which setting you think would be the most appropriate."

"It will be my pleasure; I haven't visited yet."

Alma turned to her husband.

"Hector! You cannot chain this charming young man in your cavern," she reproached.

"My dear, I didn't chain anybody."

"Your husband is free of charge, Mrs. Alvaredo. When I'm focused on a project, I tend to forget the rest."

"Alma," she corrected with a smile. "You were meant to meet then. Sometimes, I think Hector forgets I even exist."

She went to a table and picked up a bell.

"Let's have dinner. Maria prepared some specialties in your honor."

* * *

 

TBC…


	6. Chapter 6

_ Laredo, Friday morning, Laredo airport's maintenance area _

John and Shaw were coming out of the hangar were the Falcon was parked. Dirk had just confirmed that the plane was stuck on the ground for the next five days. The new part would be arriving on the following day, but Jay had requested a longer stay because the blow out might have damaged other cables and he wanted to make a thorough check before flying the plane.

The local technicians hadn't complained over the excess of safety; they were going to be able to bill quite a few hours. Which hadn't seem to faze the owner, who had only said, "just make sure we can fly safely; price is not a problem."

The two ex-agents went down the road to another hangar where the name "Reed Helicopters" was displayed.

They had agreed that this would be the best way to keep their cover of rich tourists, bored and looking for activities, while being able to survey the property since they hadn't been able to go very far.

They had to wait almost two hours before being able to lift off: John's license was thoroughly checked, the helicopter had to be prepared… Shaw, or rather Mrs Demott, had been so obnoxious that the agency's employee was glad to finally see them leave.

While they waited, John had studied the maps of the area. He decided to fly over the lake first, then widen the fly path to reach the GPS coordinates they had noted the day before.

Shaw had taken powerful binoculars and she mentally took note of everything she saw. They carried on flying over the area before bringing the helicopter back and then returning to the hotel for lunch.

The wife of the couple seating next to them seemed to be up to date to all the city gossip. John and Shaw paid attention when they heard her talking about the annual party at Alvaredo's property, where all the important people of the area were invited. "Actually, the best thing about that party is the food. They have catered Johnson&Co from San Antonio," she explained to her husband.

* * *

 

"Mr. Reese, Ms. Shaw," Finch called.

"Yes, Finch," John answered.

"Are you available for a video conference?" Finch asked.

"Actually, Shaw was setting up the computer to call you," Reese said watching the young woman moving one of the tables in the suite.

Shaw made a very thorough report of their flight over the property. The exact size wasn't sure, but several hundred acres for sure. It was surrounded by a 15 feet high wall that ran on over three quarters of the borders. She had also noticed guards monitoring the wall making rounds with quads. She had also seen several cameras and two smaller buildings that probably housed the guards. There was also a small gate in the outer wall leading to the lake, although she couldn't see its use at that location.

"The only weakness is along the lake," Shaw commented. "Still, I think they might have negotiated navigation limits. I haven't seen any boat getting closer than 150 yards from the shores belonging to the property."

It seemed the owner was affected by a huge paranoia, since the city didn't seem to present that many dangers, or he had things to hide.

"I gather from your report, Ms. Shaw, that entering that property is close to impossible," Finch summarized.

"Yes, Finch. Not impossible, but quite complicated. And we have no idea what kind of firepower we could meet," John added. "Recon is in order if we want to make a move."

Finch told them about his own progress. First, the name of the owner of the property: Alvaredo, apparently the "big man" around.

"That name is starting to show up in the maze of companies I have been able to find when following the plane's trail," Finch said. "Yet, I haven't been able to find a lot about the man. He is good at avoiding interviews, especially from economical magazines that would help me gather information more quickly. Finding out the extent of his belongings is going to be a long enterprise."

"So, we may have found where Neal is being held, but getting to him is going to be tricky," Shaw announced.

John got an idea.

"Finch, can you hack the servers of a caterer named Johnson&Co in San Antonio?" he asked.

"Probably, Mr. Reese. Why?"

"They are in charge of the party at Alvaredo's place tomorrow. Try to see if we could work as waiters during the reception. It would be the ideal cover to enter the place."

Finch was silent for a long time. In Laredo, the two agents could only hear the keyboard clicking.

"Good thinking, Mr. Reese. I think I just found a way to get you in," Finch finally announced.

The billionaire was showing them two employee files, who, according to the records had never worked at Alvaredo's property before. Their general appearance was close enough to John and Shaw to allow for minimum transformation. Glasses, a moustache and brown contact lenses for John. Shaw would need to get her hands on a blonde wig, as dying her hair might be complicated to keep the Mrs. Delmott front.

Finch however was ahead of them, and had already provided a hairdresser who also sold hair wigs.

"Let's pay a little visit to Andrew and Margo Solis, then," John said turning to Shaw.

* * *

 

After checking the financial situation of the couple, which was rather bad, both ex-agents had agreed to try and convince the Solis to let them do their work against an interesting financial compensation, instead of "getting rid" of them.

It would be better to avoid having to manage a hostage situation. The police might be alerted, and Alvaredo looked powerful enough to have his hand on the local authorities. Keeping a low profile was the best solution as they couldn't be fighting too many fronts at the same time.

The Solis were actually quite easy to convince. Once the 50 grand in cash were put on the table, the convincing part was done. Reese and Shaw got the identification tags and the necessary information to replace the couple the following morning.

Reese added an extra 5,000 dollars and asked them to get some holidays, out of town. No need to get the couple in trouble if John and Shaw got caught at the property.

Once the two masked strangers left their home, the Solis looked at each other in silence, then smiled. In ten minutes, they had just managed to get the necessary money pay off all of their debts and even have some extra cash. Incidentally, being part of a scheme to maybe stop Alvaredo was an added bonus, the man often behaved as if all the town belonged to him.

* * *

 

_Laredo, Texas, Friday 8:00 pm, Alvaredo's property_

Neal threw his pen across the room with a frustrated groan.

A little chuckle behind him made him jump.

"I am reasonably certain that pen hasn't done anything wrong," Alvaredo commented from the doorstep.

He had changed from his impeccable suits to a simple white shirt and navy pants. Neal raised a surprised eyebrow; it was the first time he saw the man in casual clothes. He took his hand to his hair in an automatic gesture; as usual he winced when he met his cropped hair.

"Is there a significant reason to my haircut?" Neal couldn't help asking.

"We knew that as soon as you were out of your anklet, the FBI would be looking for you. Changing your appearance gave us a little head start."

And playing with my psyche through a physical blow was only added bonus, Neal thought.

He wasn't that vain, but he knew his body was an asset; his hair was part of the package. Alvaredo had told him during their first meeting that he would break him if needed to get his collaboration. The slightest injury to his mind was a further step in that direction.

"Your research isn't proving conclusive, Mr. Caffrey?" Alvaredo asked.

Neal had a disgusted wince.

"No. I'm starting to wonder if that parchment does have a meaning. You're positive it's not just some random painting?"

Alvaredo shook his head with a patient smile.

"Mr. Caffrey… You have only started and already you'd want to have unlocked the secrets of a document that has eluded dozens of Pre-Colombian specialists before you."

"Maybe because there is nothing to find!" Neal spat back in an angry tone.

Alvaredo frowned and glanced to the tray placed upon a table by the window.

"Mr. Caffrey, do you have any idea of the time?"

"Sorry?" Neal said, surprised by the change of conversation and the softer voice.

"I can only praise your commitment on this project, but you will not solve it in a few days. You have been in this room for the past fifteen hours. I am here because Maria, our cook, came to me complaining that you hadn't eaten anything since this morning. She was worried you had a special diet of which she hadn't been informed."

Neal looked at the tray. He vaguely remembered drinking water…

"I do tend to lose track of time when I'm focused on a project," Neal admitted with a sheepish smile.

His current employer went to the wood chest and closed the lid.

"Get out," he ordered in a dry voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't worry. You're not fired. Not yet," he added with a predatory look.

He trailed his hand on the wood in a reverent gesture, then turned to Neal.

"Go shower, pick a car in the garage, they keys are on the ignition, and go to town. Have a drink, get yourself a Mexican girl. Spend the night outside. In other words, think of something else."

He approached Neal and pointed to the door. "Out. You're not allowed in this room before tomorrow at 10:00."

"10:00? You're ordering me to sleep in?"

"Enjoy the swimming pool or ride a quad, I don't care as long as you're not working on the parchment."

They left the room and crossed Alvaredo's office. The man stopped by his computer to override the lock of the work room.

"By the way… We are holding our annual party tomorrow. The people that count in the area are invited to discuss business in a friendly setting. Honestly, it is quite the event of the city, everyone is looking forward to it. You are of course invited. Tuxedo is mandatory, you will find one among your clothes. The first guests are expected at 7:00. Don't be late; I'd like to introduce you to some people."

"As your new expert?"

Alvaredo raised his head sharply.

"No! Certainly not. Mr. Caffrey, as I told you the day of your arrival, I have a fascination for unknown objects. No one knows about the treasure; as you have realized even my wife thinks it's just a pet peeve of mine. The people who have tried to decipher it before you have been paid a considerable amount of money to keep silent."

"So?"

"You are an artist. As I told my wife, I was hoping you would use the painting studio I set up for you. Our ancestors had their portrait painted by the greatest artists of their time. It was a wonderful habit that makes our museums today worth visiting. I think it is time to go back to that use, leave our children an image of their past.

Alvaredo was quite infatuated with himself apparently.

"Are you actually expecting me to do that painting?" Neal asked, his lips tight.

"It is well within your talents."

"I don't make paintings upon order." As Alvaredo was looking at him with a dubious stare, Neal added reluctantly, "no original paintings…"

"Mr. Caffrey, I don't care about your past as a forger. I hired you for your talent as an artist." He waved his hand at him, "Get out. Go enjoy yourself."

Neal went back to his room and raised a surprised eyebrow when he saw the time. Alvaredo hadn't even exaggerated about the hours spent in the room. He had started quite early, barely six in the morning and it was over eight now. He wrinkled his nose as he removed his shirt. A shower was really in order.

He let the hot water massage his body for a long time, rotating his head to loosen up his muscles. He totally forgot about his body when he was focused, but now it was complaining about the tension it had been subjected to.

Refreshed and relaxed, he picked his clothes with care, helping himself to the nice hat collection Alvaredo had provided him with. He felt naked with his short hair. He'd go to town to have dinner somewhere nice; the proximity of the Mexican border probably allowed for tasty food.

He let out a long whistle when he entered the parking garage and promised himself to visit the property more thoroughly. If there were other surprises like this one, the stay might indeed be quite enjoyable.

Porsche, Mazzerati, Lamborghini… An astonishing collection of cars was parked along the wall. Neal's thief heart raced as he let his hand trail on the hood of a grey Aston Martin. He finally chose a convertible Jaguar. He didn't get to drive that often, and New York wasn't really meant for open cars; he might as well enjoy the Texan climate.

He closed his eyes in pure bliss listening to the engine purr. He would go for a drive before stopping for dinner. Driving only the few miles down to the city was a shame with such an amazing car.

He left the property and accelerated down the road. Despite the speed, the engine kept incredibly silent. He let go of his foot, slowing down to a normal cruise speed. He was pretty sure Alvaredo knew the right people to make sure he wouldn't need to pay a speeding ticket, but he didn't want to be responsible for an accident.

He kept driving for several miles, savoring the wind on his face. He almost went off the road when a sudden pain went through his thigh. He braked violently, thanking whatever gods existed there were no other cars on the road. A few seconds later, a new electrical discharge shot the muscle.

The transmitter!

Alvaredo had told him his radius was much more generous than the FBI's one, but he hadn't been checking the distance. Apparently, the notification was more effective than just a light turning red. Watching the rearview mirror, he put the car in reverse driving back approximately to the place he had felt the first jolt. He turned the car GPS on and observed his position. He was approximately twenty miles away from the property, the limit his jailer-employer had announced on the first day.

He pushed the accelerator slowly moving forward until he felt the pain again. Then waited. Thirty seconds later, he felt a new jolt. Then another one, stronger and less far apart. He reversed and stopped the car. Apparently, the system first "warned" him he had gone over the limit, then if he didn't turn back soon enough, he was "punished" until he obeyed. He didn't want to check what happened if he didn't comply. Alvaredo's demonstration on the first day had been painful enough. If he wanted to run away, he would need to get rid of the transmitter. And as the man had told him, he would need a surgeon.

He turned around, going toward the city, his joy dampened by this reminder of his situation. Not seeing the anklet around his leg, he had almost forgotten he was still wearing a leash.

He slowed down the main road. A colorful terrace caught his eye and he parked the car.

He sat at a table and checked the menu.

"Good evening, Señor. What can I get you?" a beautiful dark haired woman asked.

Neal gave her a dazzling smile.

"What's the specialty, Señorita?"

The young Mexican girl returned his smile, eyes glowing. "Margarita?"

"Frozen margarita it is then," Neal approved.

"I'll get your drink immediately, sir."

Neal watched her go back inside the restaurant with a smile. Mexican girls were really pretty…

Dinner was as good as expected. Leaving a large tip to the pretty waitress, Neal got his car back and drove aimlessly.

He finally stopped by a small cliff over the lake. The country club was easily recognizable by the lights on the shore. Further down, only a few lights could be seen. The point of view was peaceful, especially for a city dweller, used to New York's constant bustling.

He watched the sky, fascinated by the quantity of stars.

"You can never see the stars in New York," he whispered to himself.

He frowned. A weird feeling had vaguely surfaced, but he couldn't place it.

He smiled as a shooting star crossed the sky. His wish was easy to find…

He turned the engine on and drove back. Going back to the property took little time. The gate opened automatically detecting the signal from the car. The guard inside watched him, checked his watch and went back to his magazine.

Neal parked the car in the garage and entered the house. He was about to go to his room when he remembered the weird feeling while watching the stars. He decided to go check the parchment; maybe his unconscious mind had seen something that still eluded him.

He entered Alvaredo's office and went to the door of the workshop. He dialed the code and sighed when the light remained red. Apparently, his employer had been serious when he had forbidden him to come before the following day. Technically, it was the following day…

He turned around and stopped by the desk. The temptation to search was too great to resist.

Instinctively he took his hand to his breast pocket before he remembered he didn't have his lock picks. When Alvaredo's men had kidnapped him, all his belongings had been taken, wallet, phone… The man had then given him an envelope with cash, a "down payment" on his salary to cover his expenses. But there were other means to open a lock. He took two paper clips and unfolded them to make a rudimentary lock allowing him to open the drawer on the side.

There were several files hanging. He took the one with his name on. He frowned as he perused the documents. The file was very well documented, with copies of official notes from the FBI, the DA's office, even a note from Peter! Alvaredo had admitted that he had been observing him, so this file wasn't a surprise, but the amount of details proved his information network was quite thorough.

Another name caught his eye: Rachel Turner. Why would Alvaredo have a file on the woman he had known as Rebecca Lowe?

He was about to take the file when he jumped at a noise in the hallway. He put his file back, closed the drawer and stood, moving toward the workshop.

"Mr. Caffrey?" the guard called.

Neal turned around calmly, his posture showing he was perfectly at ease.

"I wanted to check something in the workshop…"

"Mr. Alvaredo has made it very clear that you couldn't go inside before 10:00 am."

"Yes, I know. It's just that I…" He dismissed it with his hand. "Never mind; it can wait tomorrow."

He went to the door, leaving the room.

"Have a good day, Martin."

"Good day, Mr. Caffrey."

 

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

_ Laredo, Texas, Saturday 8:30 am, Alvaredo's property _

Alvaredo was sitting at his desk. As usual in the morning, he was checking his emails.

Steve, his secretary, entered the office with the mail and newspaper.

"Good morning, Sir."

"Good morning, Steve."

The secretary sat down and the two men went through the day's agenda. This also allowed Alvaredo to hear the gossip from the city. His information system was flawless; everyone owed him something or wanted to be kept in his good graces. Nothing that happened in Laredo escaped him.

"A rich couple has arrived from New York," Steve informed him.

"Tourists?"

"No. Their jet had a technical problem; they requested an emergency landing." He checked his note pad. "Mr. and Mrs. Delmott. Apparently, Mrs. Delmott is about to become the most feared person in town." He had a light chuckle. "Nothing is good enough for her. She seems to be used to more luxury than our city can offer."

He turned a sheet of paper.

"I did some research. Ted Delmott is a very private business man. They are quite wealthy, yet they keep out of the spotlights. I have found very little information. They seem to avoid journalists and tabloids as much as possible."

Alvaredo nodded. He liked his privacy too. He launched a search on his computer, accessing private servers. The Delmotts were indeed more than wealthy; they belonged to some exclusive circles, had very powerful contacts. If Eleonore Delmott seemed to be on the frivolous side, Ted could be an interesting business partner to reach out to.

"I'll ask Alma to invite them for tea. They must be bored to tears."

"Very well, sir. I'll have the invitation delivered." He handed Alvaredo a paper. "The final guests list for this evening."

"Thank you."

Steve left the room and Alvaredo put the key to his drawer. He frowned when the key didn't enter as smoothly as usual. He turned the key slowly and opened the drawer. He checked the files; one of them was slightly askew.

He mused for a moment, watched the workshop door.

Caffrey…

No doubt about it, his "guest" had already searched his office. He wasn't surprised. He knew sooner or later, the thief would want to find information about him. He wasn't worried; the most sensitive files were out of reach. He checked the name on the file.

Of course, it was his own. Alvaredo had admitted having had surveillance on him; these documents only confirmed it. He put the file back and closed the drawer.

He would meet Caffrey around breakfast, see how he reacted. Having a man like him inside his inner circle would be a formidable asset, but for now he knew Caffrey didn't trust him one bit. The road would be long before the man became an ally. Of course, his initial plan wasn't out yet. Caffrey was way too smart not to be a real danger. If he didn't become an asset, then he wouldn't make it out alive of the property. No one had seen him come in, no one would come looking… He was just hoping he would locate the mask before he had to get rid of the man.

* * *

 

After his late return from Laredo, Neal had laid down on the bed fully clothed to think, intrigued by the documents he had seen in Alvaredo's office. He would have liked to check it again, but it might prove complicated. He hadn't noticed falling asleep.

He woke with a gasp when he heard a knock on the door. He checked his watch. Esteban, with his morning coffee, no doubt.

The young kitchen help had found out Neal loved good coffee and had taken upon himself to bring a fresh cup in the morning, before breakfast.

"Your coffee, señor," Esteban said, slowly opening the door.

"Adelante, Esteban. Muchas gracias," Neal answered, his Spanish quite rusty.

"Did you sleep well, sir?" Esteban asked politely, seemingly totally unfazed by the fact that his employer's guest had slept with his clothes on.

Neal smelled the cup. Esteban had prepared it the Mexican way, with a dash of cinnamon. The fragrance was exquisite.

"So, you're getting ready for the big fiesta?" Neal asked, remembering Alvaredo's invitation.

"Only part of it. The señora has a catering company for the party. She needs 'professionals' to run this kind of events," Esteban answered, his tone clearly displaying what he thought about this lack of confidence on their own work.

"At least, if anything goes wrong, you won't be responsible," Neal offered.

Esteban shrugged, apparently not caring, then turned to the door.

"Have a good day, señor. Breakfast is served on the terrace."

After a shower and a change of clothes, Neal went to the patio to eat. He missed his rooftop view, yet the setting was quite nice. Alvaredo probably used all the water he could get from the lake to feed the fountains and irrigate the gardens. He had to admit that it had been nicely done, with a respect for the local vegetation that was present among the various water spots.

He wasn't surprised when Alvaredo came to sit at the table.

"Good morning, Mr. Caffrey. I see you followed my advice," he said looking at his watch.

"You didn't give much of a choice," Neal answered drinking his coffee.

"For your own good. After a nice evening, you can only work better today."

Neal clenched his teeth to hold the hasty reply he had been about to make. No use getting on the wrong side of his new employer.

"You're having me followed, transmitter notwithstanding?" Neal asked in a light tone, as if the answer wasn't of much importance.

"I don't need to. I'm a public figure in Laredo. The town owes me a lot. It is therefore quite easy to get some… services."

Such as a whole town watching me, Neal thought. Nice…

"Is that why you wish to introduce me to your guests tonight?"

"Partly, indeed. Some of the guests come from other cities though. My motivations run deeper, but I will explain it to you in due time."

Neal thought back to the file he had seen in Alvaredo's office. He would need to find a way to explore his office more thoroughly. Which was a bit of a challenge due to the surveillance he was submitted to. What were Alvaredo's secrets?

Having finished his breakfast, he went back to the workshop. He was opening the lid to the chest, when he decided to change his approach. Since the document wasn't revealing any clue, he was going to look for information on the treasure itself; maybe even the mask and try to know more about the legend around it. Maybe the pictograms on the parchment were linked to events that would make sense with a context.

He started perusing the different books stored in the room, reading a page here, watching a reproduction there. Soon, he was deeply engrossed in Cortes' and the Spanish Conquistadores' history.

_"The priest came out of the pyramid. He was dressed in a long white gown, his head hidden behind a gold mask. My interpreter explained it was the Gods' mask. It told the future to the priest wearing it …"_

Neal stopped reading and frowned. He had read something about the Gods' mask earlier. What if the shaman's mask was actually the Gods' mask? Lamenting, as often, not having Mozzie's perfect memory, he had to search for a little while among the books on the table before he found what he was looking for.

_"The Gods' mask is described for the first time in the journal of a Jesuit priest attached to the services of Cortes in Tenochtitlan. It is a mask made of gold, with jade incrusted eyes. The headset is made of gold feathers incredibly thin. The lips are made of rubies. The head itself doesn't look like any other Aztec mask, usually depicting an animal. The description mentions a human face, smooth skinned, big almond eyes. The very thin lips on the bottom of a triangle shaped face…"_

"Hello Roswell," Neal whispered.

He put the book down, deep in thought. Mozzie would probably already have jumped on the comment to explain aliens had contacted the Aztecs. Personally he needed a little more tangible facts. The astronaut stela belonged to the Maya, close geographically but from a different culture and time period. The found it difficult to believe aliens were the reason for the surprising scientific knowledge of pre-Columbian Indians. One of the main reasons their culture seemed so advanced at the time was because of the impact of the church in old Europe. How many men, beside Galileo, had to give up the truth to save their own lives?

_"Mentions to this mask totally disappear after the battle known as the 'Noche Triste'. When the Spanish had to escape, large quantities of gold and silver disappeared, as the military were slaughtered or drowned in the lake around the city. Most probably the mask was melted to feed the treasury to be brought back to the Spanish crown…"_

_"The different testimonies gathered confer the mask magical powers, including predicting the future, by giving its holder a vision gift but also control over people…"_

So the shaman's mask was supposed to allow its bearer to predict the future…

_"During religious ceremonies, hallucinogen drugs were often used, allowing the shamans to hear the gods…"_

_"Crowds brought to a semi-conscious state could then easily be manipulated by the kings and leaders who needed to affirm their power in times of continuous wars…"_

The more he thought about it, the more Neal was thinking that owning that unique piece wasn't the only interest of Alvaredo. His fascination for unknown works of art hid something darker.

A thirst for power…

Owning what no one knew about put him at a superior level. There was only a step from there to leadership.

I want to be the master of the world.

Neal couldn't help a smile thinking of the comics where the bad guys used the line, then felt a sudden chill as he realized Alvaredo sounded crazy enough to actually own up to the phrase.

Did he really believe in the power of the mask? Did he take the legend at face value?

Neal found it difficult to believe that the mask could have any supernatural power, but experience had proved him life wasn't always necessarily rational… Many ancient objects kept hiding their secrets.

The files he had briefly seen in the office proved Alvaredo had an intelligence network as good as the CIA, FBI and NSA put together. In any case, the information he had gathered on him proved he had high placed contacts. Who knew how far he could reach? Alvaredo wasn't just a mad collector, he was dangerous.

He thought back to his first conversation with Alvaredo the day of his arrival –of his kidnapping. Alvaredo was aware of his release denial. How did he get the information? It wasn't a secret, but it hadn't been wildly broadcasted either. It meant he had contacts inside the FBI…

Neal focused back on his task. He had to find a way to search the office again.

He decided to copy the glyphs on separated pieces of paper. Since the symbols could also be syllables, maybe he needed to gather several pictures to make one word. There were lots of combinations, but the secret might lie there…

The table was soon too small to hold the different words. He had copied the symbols several times to work more easily. He pushed some furniture and sat on the floor.

* * *

 

Several hours later, Alvaredo found Neal sitting in the floor surrounded by a sea of paper pieces, moving them around.

"New version of Scrabble, Mr. Caffrey?"

Lost in his research, Neal hadn't heard him coming in. He watched the paper and smirked.

"Sort of…"

Alvaredo sighed.

"Mr. Caffrey, I am a very busy business man with a full agenda," he stated.

Neal frowned not making sense of the comment.

"I admire your commitment to this work, but I am not your personal watch."

Neal cast a glance to the clock on the wall.

"I seem to remember telling you we had guests at 7:00. If you could get dressed…" he said showing the door.

Neal had a slight wince.

"I will the ready in time, Mr. Alvaredo."

"Thank you," the man answered with a satisfied nod.

* * *

 

_Laredo, Tx, Saturday 8:00 am, Johnson &Co's office_

Mr. and Mrs. Solis had arrived at the requested time at the warehouse rented by the caterer. They had gone through the check-up process without a glitch.

After a few hours of preparation, four vans stopped in front of the huge gate of the property.

John's eye, sitting in the first van, caught a sign carved on top of one of the pillars. The guards inspected the cars. He waited for them to move to another vehicle and took a picture of the engraving with his phone.

He had already seen it somewhere, but he couldn't remember when or where.

Once they had exited the vehicles, the staff was taken to a room where two guards were waiting. Guessing they were about to be searched, John and Shaw stood in the back, allowing themselves some freeway if anything went wrong, they didn't have any weapon with them.

Suddenly, John remembered where he had seen the symbol, which actually was also present on the one dollar American bill. It had been during a research for the CIA on secret societies; the name jumped at his face, "Illuminati".

There were only two waiters before him. He quickly sent a text message to Finch along with the picture: ##Find info on Illuminati##.

He was searched just as all the other waiters, and the guards asked him to turn off his mobile and place it in a plastic box. Security measures were astounding.

The work of the caterer's team could start. John and Shaw went to work; working undercover was a second nature. Waiter was far from being the worst they had done. The buffet was a piece of work, up to par with the greatest reception he had attended to in the past. Alvaredo apparently knew how to impress his guests.

* * *

 

When Neal came from his room after getting ready, he met Mrs. Alvaredo who was talking with the chief of staff. She was wearing a beautiful evening gown that enhanced the honey color of her skin and her hair was tied up in a neat artistic bun. The caterer nodded and went to the garden where a white canopy had been set up.

"Neal," she greeted him. "That smoking suits you perfectly. I'm afraid I won't be seeing much of my friends this evening…"

"Alma, I now know why there are so many guards around; your husband is probably worried someone steals you from him."

"Oh you, charmer…" she reproached, giving him a slight clap on the arm.

"Everything is going as you expected?"

"Yes," she said, watching the last details being finalized. "I have a caterer from San Antonio take care of this party. Laredo is a lovely town, but no company can take care of this kind of event." She had a light chuckle. "We would be having barbecue and patato salad!"

She went toward her husband who had just appeared in the hallway.

"Hector, dear."

She stopped to cut a fresh rose button and slipped it on his lapel.

"I was telling our guest that Laredo sometimes lacked luster."

"Mr. Caffrey is from New York. Your caterer will probably seem quite dull to him, honey."

"I am sure Mrs. Alvaredo will get the best of them," Neal intervened.

He felt his heart tighten thinking about Elizabeth. Now, she knew how to organize a party.

The guests started arriving. The candles were lit in the garden. Neal watched the new faces. Higher ups from the area, but also business men coming from other cities. Alvaredo introduced him sometimes, but on the whole Neal was left alone, trying to get away from Alma's female friends who seemed eager to meet the "artist from New York".

"You're painting their portrait…"

"What a lovely idea."

"Would you be available for us when you're done with Mr. Alvaredo's painting?"

Neal hadn't noticed that two of the waiters were watching him closely. Shaw was carrying the tray on which he had helped himself several times, but he hadn't recognized her.

Finally, he managed to dodge his new fan club and went down a corridor he had never used before. He had been so focused on his research that despite what he had told himself when he has discovered the car collection, he still hadn't visited the property carefully.

He froze in front of a painting. Eyes wide with surprise, he got closer to check its authenticity. It was indeed the original. How on earth had that painting gotten there?

"I always wondered how you would react upon seeing it," Alvaredo's slightly amused voice said by his side.

Neal jumped. Apparently, even in a house full of guests, his "employer" always had an eye on him.

"I'll admit I'm surprised. I thought you favored less famous works."

"This one has a fascinating story. I mean, its disappearance during… approximately seven years?"

On the wall, "St George and the Dragon" was hung in a good place. As usual, Alvaredo's information network seemed to be up to date.

"Of course, no one will ever be able to prove it, but I'm pretty sure you are responsible for its disappearance… and reappearance," Alvaredo said, his eyes on the painting.

Neal's face remained expressionless. That painting was linked to far too personal memories to allow Alvaredo the pleasure of the truth.

"It is a magnificent piece of art," he simply said.

His host had a slight smile, apparently satisfied by the answer. He nodded to his guest.

"Enjoy the party, Mr. Caffrey."

Neal watched him leave, then turned to the painting. So Alvaredo has ordered a theft to get the painting. He hadn't heard of this latest disappearance; the insurance company had probably kept it quiet. He wondered if Sara was in charge of the recovery. He couldn't help a sad sigh thinking of the redhead and turned to the bay window opening on the garden.

Seeing that Neal was finally alone, John went to him, carrying his tray of Champagne cups.

"You're quite difficult to find Neal," he said presenting the tray with all the elegance of a seasoned waiter.

Neal jumped, looking like a deer faced with headlights. He took a step backwards opening his eyes wide when he recognized John behind the disguise.

"No, please, don't run. I've been looking for you for a while, I am tired. Don't make me shoot you."

"I really don't feel like operating on anyone in this heat," Shaw added from behind him.

Speechless, Neal watched the two ex-agents framing him. He looked around him, no one was paying attention to their little group for now, but he knew he was being watched all the time.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a faint voice.

"That should actually be our question, Neal," John said with a little smile.

Neal seemed terrified by their presence. Reese still couldn't understand what the man's play was.

"We only have one question and will be out of your sight: are you here voluntarily?"

"It's complicated…"

"Seems quite simple to me, on the contrary," Shaw answered. "You're here voluntarily and we disappear; you are a prisoner and we free you. See? Simple enough."

Neal watched the entrance of the room with a scared look. Alvaredo was talking with a couple of guests. He picked up the cloth John had on his arm and pretended to clean his tuxedo.

"I can't talk to you. Get out before you get caught."

"Neal, we need to talk to you," John insisted. "Tomorrow, 6:00 pm, La Posada hotel."

"Okay. Leave me alone now," he spat throwing the cloth to John's face and going toward the garden.

Neal met Alvaredo a few minutes later.

"Problem?" he asked.

Neal sighed mentally, glad he had sent John away. Although he was the perfect host to his guest, talking to everyone with an obvious use of this kind of events, Alvaredo kept his eyes on him all the time.

Neal shook his head with a smile.

"Nothing serious. Clumsy waiter. Good thing, Champagne doesn't stain." He raised his glass in a toast. "Excellent vintage by the way, congratulations."

"My wife has a soft spot for French Champagne. This one comes straight from the cellars of a little producer I keep secret."

"Your fascination for hidden treasures doesn't stop at art I see…" Neal commented.

"Indeed," Alvaredo confirmed with a nod, turning back to his guests.

 

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

_Laredo, Texas, Sunday morning, La Posada hotel_

Shaw was holding an invitation, staring at it with a mean glare.

"Is that paper showing an attitude Shaw?" Reese joked, amused by the face of his partner.

"Apparently Alvaredo's surveillance system is just as good as Finch's," the young woman answered.

John approached her to have a look.

The invitation card, on an excellent glossy paper, had the name of the couple engraved in a discreet grey. Below, the proper invitation had been hand written.

 _'We would be delighted to have you for tea, tomorrow at 4:00 pm. We have been informed of your mechanical problems. We know Laredo can lack interesting entertainment, and thought you would probably appreciate the coolness of our garden and pool. Please let us know if we can count on your visit. Alma Alvaredo._ '

Reese raised his eyes and shrugged.

"Well, that will give us an opportunity to case the place…"

"You're going to have me chitchat over cucumber sandwiches while you visit the property," Shaw grumbled.

"Don't be that negative. She might show you her dressing room." John stepped back quickly before Shaw could hit him and answered with a smile to the smoldering glare she threw him.

"I knew I would miss my old job someday…" the ex-agent complained.

After lunch John decided to call Finch, surprised that he hadn't called them back.

"Harold, you there?" he asked.

"Always, Mr. Reese. Is there a problem?" his employer answered.

"No, just worried you haven't reached out to us yet," John answered.

"Considering the time the party ended, I thought it wise to let you rest some."

"Thanks…" John said with a slightly amused smile. "Any progress? I still don't know what to make of the symbol I sent you yesterday," he explained.

"I did progress, although I do not know if it is making us move forward," Finch answered cryptically.

John just waited for Finch to explain himself.

"I will start with the symbol you sent yesterday. It indeed belongs to the secret society known as the Illuminati."

John heard papers being shuffled.

"Let me read you some extracts of what I found," Finch went on.

_"The Illuminati are the most modern form of a very old secret society, 'the snake brotherhood', born in Babylon over 5000 years ago. The Templars, the Freemasons, the Order of Malta and the Illuminati are only more recent versions of the same thing._

_"The Illuminati order was born in 1776 in Bavaria. It is the oldest and most secret of the 'Masters of the World' organizations. Their initial project was to radically change the word, by overpowering the monarchies who, at that time, hampered progress. The French Revolution and the United States foundation are said to be the result of their strategy._

_"They had designed a Plan, conceived to run over several centuries, that used the starting financial system to reach a total domination of the world. That Plan was carried on generation after generation, by an elite of hereditary initiated men that adapted it to their society in terms of technology, sociology and economics._

Finch rummaged through the papers he had printed.

"Hear this. _'according to them, the populations are naturally ignorant, stupid and potentially violent. The world, therefore, needs to be led by an enlightened elite. The Illuminati see themselves as holding a superior knowledge and wisdom, inherited from their past, giving them the legitimacy to rule over the world."_

Finch stopped his lecture and waited for his employees' reaction.

"There are still crazy people believing in that bullshit?" Shaw spat. "Masters of the world, unbelievable."

"Do not take this with levity, Ms Shaw," Finch answered. "If you know where to look, you'll soon realize that society really does exist."

"The members of the Illuminati have never been identified for certain. They probably belong to the major capitalistic families, such as the Rothschild, Harriman, Russel, Dupont, Windsor or Rockefeller. Although the charges were hereditary in the beginning, it is believed that the big fortunes of today's economic world have been recruited since," Finch concluded.

"Finch, did you find anything that would point at Alvaredo belonging to the Illuminati?" John asked a bit worried.

"We will never be completely sure. We can only gather, but the symbol on the property leaves little room for doubt. It is actually quite surprising to show the symbol at all…"

"However, this lead has allowed me to progress on another research I hadn't told you about yet," Finch carried on.

"Other research, Finch? You're keeping secrets from us?"

"I wanted to have some more tangible elements before I breached the topic," Finch explained. "The research I conducted on the owners of the van and the plane led me to a highly complicated network of companies. They have common shareholders, crossed financial interests. It is actually quite difficult to get the names of the real shareholders behind all those front companies."

"Thanks to the resources Ms. Groves gave me, I am…."

"How does Root fit into this?" John interrupted.

"Ms. Groves, or as she says the Machine, is convinced Mr. Caffrey's case could help us better understand the 'menace' we are facing in New York. She is the one who convinced me to check the companies. Thanks to her hacker friends I have unlimited access to databases all over the world. As I was saying, before you interrupted, my computer is drawing a chart of the companies and their links."

Fnch paused to watch the organization chart on the screen. As new connections appeared the drawing moved, looking like a huge living nebula.

"It is starting to make sense. I have now a good idea of Mr. Alvaredo's resources."

"His fortune is huge. I haven't dug too deep so as not to trigger any alarm. Any precise research might be identified by their system. The paranoia surrounding that society probably has them hiring experts to keep an eye on every IT flow."

"This is all very interesting, but I don't see how it is relevant," Shaw intervened.

"You are right, Ms. Shaw, let me explain. I extended my research programs and I am mapping out Alvaredo's companies and interests, a lot here, in the US, but also abroad."

"Wait a minute. Finch, are you actually drawing the Illuminati members chart?" John asked, dumbfounded once again by the resources of his employer.

"That would probably take months if not years. Still, I have two leads in the US. One is Senator McCourt. It has always been suspected that the Illuminati had members among our political leaders. The other lead concerns companies linked to the hereditary families."

"I'll keep digging and hope I won't be detected. Of course, getting into Mr. Alvaredo's computer would be helpful. He must have documents on a server," Finch concluded.

"So, we really have no tangible information. A good idea of the resources of our enemy, who happens to have a house that looks like a bunker; he may be linked to a powerful secret society related to the menace we fight in New York. I really don't see how Neal fits into this! How can we do anything?" John wondered.

"I realize that, Mr. Reese," Finch answered. "Let's hope your meeting with Mr. Caffrey this evening will shed some light on the reasons for his being there."

"I certainly hope so," John confirmed. "I also hope the invitation of the Alvaredos will prove useful."

"Invitation?" Finch asked.

"Apparently, they heard about the Delmotts' misadventure. We received an invitation for tea tomorrow," John explained.

"That could prove useful and give you a chance to check the place. Security should be less important on guests. You will at least be allowed to keep your phones… I'll call you back," Finch finished the call.

* * *

_Laredo, Sunday 5:00 pm, Alvaredo's property_

Neal savored the shower longer that was really necessary. He couldn't tell if he was really dirty, after all the work room was quite dusty, or if it was related to the ancient story, but he always felt like he had cobwebs sticking to his body every time he left his work. Anyway, the massage jets of the shower felt great over his shoulders.

He stepped into a clear colored suit, appreciating the quality of the material. Alvaredo had really gotten him the best. He went to the garage parking.

"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…"

He admired the collection with a sigh then settled for the Lamborghini.

He felt his heart tighten as he remembered the time Peter had driven a similar car. Good old times…

The city was too close to really enjoy the full potential of the car, but the reaction created by his entrance on the parking of the Posada hotel brought a smile to his lips. Might as well clearly show where he was, no suspicion would arise from his visit to the hotel. Of course, John might see it differently.

He gave the keys to the valet whose eyes glowed with pleasure, and he entered the hotel lobby.

He had checked the site of the hotel John had suggested for their meeting. It was one of the most select in town. Discretion was paramount for a place visited by the jet set and international stars. No one would pay attention to his entrance. The restaurant was a must and deserved a visit. Alvaredo wouldn't have any reason not to think that Neal just wanted to taste their famous Texan steak.

He went to the beautiful sweeping curved staircase, stopping to watch the Spanish doubloon inlaid in the floor. How was he going to find John?

The concierge raised his head and smiled at him.

"Would you be Mr. Caffrey?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," Neal answered, a bit surprised.

"An envelope has been left for you this morning. I accepted it, though we do not usually accept documents for non-guests," the concierge explained, obviously expecting a generous tip.

"Thank you very much," Neal answered slipping him a bill as he took the envelope.

He moved to a corner to open it away from the prying eyes of the concierge. The message was short: "Massage at 6:15, spa."

He followed the signs to the fitness center and took the stairs leading to the spa. The receptionist smiled politely.

"Mr. Caffrey, our 6:15 client, right? The room is ready." She rose to direct him. "Second door to the right. Make yourself comfortable. Your masseur will be in very shortly.

Showing a confidence he wasn't really feeling, Neal entered the room and locked the door. A soft music and scented candles gave the room a cozy feeling. He opened the curtain leading to the massage table and couldn't help a laugh.

John and Shaw had put on the white uniforms of the spa personnel and were leaning against the table, arms crossed, with a slight disapproving look on their faces.

"Not exactly a low profile arrival…" John commented.

"Trying to make up for something Neal?" Shaw asked with a teasing smile.

At the party, their arrival had surprised and worried him; Alvaredo kept a close watch on his movements. Here, chances were this meeting would remain secret. Neal smiled, glad to see them. He couldn't really call them friends, but seeing familiar faces was nice. As for the reason of their presence…

Silence stretched.

"So?" Shaw finally asked.

"So what?" Neal answered with a frown.

"The answer to our question," John explained.

"It's…"

"Complicated. Yes, you told us so," John interrupted.

He stepped away from the massage table.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable and tell us about it?"

Neal couldn't help a step backwards.

"You're not really going to give me a massage, are you?" he asked worriedly.

Shaw let her eyes trail over the handsome body, not hiding her admiration, "Well…. It would be nice…"

"And would give us a lever if some… motivation was needed," John added.

The CI couldn't help a nervous smile. He couldn't tell if the two agents were really teasing him or not. John finally sat on one of the arm chairs, while Shaw sat crossed legged on the table. Neal chose the couch against the wall, facing the window. He sighed.

"How did you find me?"

John raised an eyebrow in reproach. "Neal…"

"What John means," Shaw quickly stepped in, "is that we are the ones asking the questions."

"Which I will remind you, just in case you forgot since yesterday evening. Are you here voluntarily or not?"

"It's…"

"Neal!" John growled. "If you tell me it's complicated one more time, I'm going to shoot you in the arm, then press on the bullet until you start speaking," John detailed in a calm voice.

Caffrey blanched, not doubting the threat for a moment.

"Techniques of intimidation 101?"

His poor joke only produced a deeper frown of hostility and Neal swallowed hard.

"Alvaredo kidnapped me and is holding me against my will, but he also made me an offer impossible to turn down…" he said, trying to summarize in a few words a really… complex situation.

"See, it wasn't that difficult," John replied with a fake smile.

He watched Neal closely as the young man told them what had happened in the last few days, starting with the reason of his unplanned stay in Texas: to decrypt a parchment to find the location of a treasure, most specifically an Aztec mask.

Despite the offer, freedom and a substantial amount of money, John could feel that Neal's conscience wasn't at ease with the deal. Was he hiding something?

"Something else bothers me: this guy has a surveillance system that probably rivals your own. In my file, I found official documents from the FBI. There is another file that I didn't have time to check. It belongs to Rachel Turner, an ex-MI-5 agent that I met in New York recently," Neal carried on.

"We know about that case. Mozzie told us. It is weird," John admitted. "How does an MI-5 agent fit into this?"

John decided to inform Neal about their own discoveries, especially the link between his "host" and the Illuminati.

Neal attentively listened to the explanations, then a flash crossed his face as if something had suddenly made sense. John waited knowing the younger man would soon talk.

"That explains Alvaredo's fascination with that mask! According to the legend, it has a supernatural power; it is supposed to allow its bearer to predict the future. Seeing the future would help ruling it, right? Owning such an object, if indeed it has any power, would be a considerable asset for a secret society, the ultimate weapon in a sense."

"Please, don't tell me you believe in all that nonsense," Shaw snorted.

Neal ignored the comment and went on.

"Whatever the part of truth of the legend, all this just reinforces my belief that letting Alvaredo get that mask is really not a good idea."

John didn't know what to say. The ramifications of this case kept getting more and more complex. Neal was definitely one of a kind, a real trouble magnet.

Seeing as the two agents kept silent, Neal added one piece of information.

"Oh, and by the way... Just in case you'd want to throw a hood over my head and forcefully get me back to New York, I need to tell you Alvaredo has it covered. He follows me with a GPS."

John bent his head to watch his ankle but didn't see anything. Neal answered with a smile.

"Much more subtle. It is intra-dermal…. Actually intra-muscular would be a better explanation."

Shaw frowned. Removing a device inserted too deeply would prove impossible without the proper equipment.

"So I am indeed a prisoner. But if I manage to find the treasure, I will be free." He sighed deeply. "I guess you know about my situation in New York… Anyway, my turn to ask questions, now! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Our source told us you were in danger…"

"I'm gonna be keeping it busy full time!" Neal joked.

"Yeah, well you can imagine my surprise when at the same moment I got a call from the mobile I gave you last year."

"What? Oh…" Neal exclaimed. "Mozzie?"

John nodded.

"The whole FBI is looking for you again."

"Mozzie is helping the FBI?" Neal asked dumbfounded.

"Mostly fighting to convince them you didn't run. Actually, he is probably the only one that believes that theory."

"What do you mean, theory?" Neal protested. "I was kidnapped!"

"Indeed, but the deal you have with Alvaredo couldn't come at a better time. Be it Mozzie or some megalomaniac, you still are getting the means to buy your own island. Only the result matters, right?"

Hearing his own reasoning out loud gave it a whole new dimension. Neal rose from the couch and started pacing. Of course the room didn't allow for much pacing.

"Neal, calm down. We are here because we have reason to believe your life is in danger. Either Alvaredo doesn't intend to let you go, or you might get in the cross fire between the FBI and the Marshals. What do we know? This is Texas, the Rangers might actually show up too! Anyway, once this is over, I'll have no qualms in flying you personally to your island."

Caffrey froze, his eyes going from John to Shaw, suddenly seeing them in a different light. They had come to save his life; they didn't care what he did with it afterwards. Hell! Finch might even have some ideas about a discreet place where to settle. And if he really wanted to cut all ties with his past, the IT genius could most probably help him get a new identity.

He sighed deeply and, more relieved than he had ever been since his kidnapping, he sat back on the couch.

"So, what are the next steps?" he asked.

"First, find a way to get rid of your transmitter," Shaw announced. "We will be needing Finch for this."

"I'm not leaving without cracking the code of the parchment. It's important!"

John glared at him. They had other priorities than satisfying the cultural curiosity of the ex-thief! Except apparently, unless they indeed got a hood over his head and forcefully loaded him in the Falcon, Neal wasn't giving up.

He touched his earwig.

"Finch, you have light suits?"

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Reese?" said the surprised voice in New York.

"We're going to need you here, Harold."

"I was about to suggest it. I found a way to hack into the system of the building you've been monitoring. I was hoping to use it as a relay to reach Alvaredo's server but with no luck so far. The only solution is going to physically access a computer, be it in the company or Alvaredo's residence, with all the associated risks, of course…."

John raised his eyes to the CI.

"Neal, do you have access to one of Alvaredo's computers?"

"The one in the office. It's not going to be easy though, I'm constantly under watch."

John turned to Shaw, "I guess the invitation for tea will prove useful!"

"Anyway Finch, this would certainly be easier if you were here. I think it is time for Harold Wren to visit his favorite niece. She's quite disappointed not being in Cabo San Luca…" John added with a smirk toward Shaw.

* * *

 

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

_New York, Sunday 6:00 pm (local time), Finch's library_

Finch's fingers flew over the keyboard as he searched for the fastest flight to get to Laredo. Using a commercial line was bound to be less noticed than having a second private jet from New York arrive. Alvaredo might get suspicious of the coincidence.

"I'm going with you," Mozzie told him.

Finch sighed. He knew his guest would want to go on this trip; he had already been denied it once.

"Mr. Mozzie, don't force me to lock you up again…"

Mozzie opened his mouth to complain but he was so outraged that no sound came out.

"I need you in New York," the genius went on, not letting him start complaining. "I have no doubts about agent Burke's team efficiency. If we could find Mr. Caffrey's trail, they will reach the same conclusions soon enough."

"Yeah… leaving the van at the airport wasn't very smart," Mozzie confirmed.

"Intentional, I believe. To reinforce the fleeing theory."

"Right," Mozzie whispered.

"I would like you to keep an eye on the FBI team. I won't go as far as asking you to derail their investigation, but keep us informed of their progress. As you know, we do not care much for publicity. If we could avoid having to face the FBI in Laredo…"

"You want me to spy on the FBI?" Mozzie asked, eyes glowing in anticipation.

"More like undercover work…" Finch suggested. "Furthermore, if agent Burke finds out you are going to Texas while your friend has disappeared, he will have you followed. He won't doubt for a second that you have privileged information."

"I can travel undetected," Mozzie countered.

"I am convinced you can. But if we could make sure they keep investigating in the wrong place, it would give us some leeway."

Mozzie frowned, deep in thought. "I can probably lead them on some trails…"

Finch had a small smile. He had been sure Mozzie wouldn't resist interfering with the FBI.

He had a few hours before leaving for the airport, so he decided to prepare the flash drive he would need to hack into Alvaredo's system.

Mozzie blanched visibly when he saw him connect the flash drive on his computer.

"Mozzie?" Finch asked softly, seeing the white face.

The little man, that had been pacing while coming up with ideas on how to derail the FBI, froze and let himself fall on a chair.

"I thought he was joking…" Mozzie mumbled.

"Sorry?" Finch asked in surprise.

"When John said he got worried when you used his first name…" Mozzie explained. "It's the first time you did not call me 'Mister'."

Finch had a small wince.

"The past months have been quite hectic. After Keller's… disappearance, I'll admit I spent some time trying to find information about you," Mozzie carried on.

Finch sent him a reproachful glance that Mozzie shrugged off. They were the same on that regard; the IT genius was hard put calling him pot.

"I sincerely admire what you have done. You literally don't exist. Well, apart from the fact that you died in an explosion and your body wasn't recovered…" Mozzie stopped for a second, thinking how he had "terminated" his own true self. "As for the rest…."

"What's your question, Mr. Mozzie?" Finch asked drily.

Mozzie smiled at the return to formality.

"As you must have expected, I haven't been able to crack the code of the flash drive you gave me. I wanted to work on it more thoroughly, but I totally forgot about it with all the chase on the Mosconi codex and the diamond…"

Finch remained silent for a moment. He regretted having given Mozzie the drive. Some secrets were better kept… secret. When he had seen Mozzie's reaction upon seeing the flash drive, he had immediately known the reason. He had apparently forgotten about it. Seeing the same model, a bit unusual, had triggered his memory.

As a matter of fact, apparently Mozzie hadn't accessed the data yet.

"Mozzie," Finch said again softly. "If I asked you to destroy the drive without cracking it, would you?"

"Would you?"

"Probably not… but I have been known not to always make the right decisions in my life."

"You found information that might endanger me?"

"No, no danger. More likely to hurt you. You are a good man, Mr. Mozzie. I would hate to hurt your feelings."

Mozzie was touched by the nice comment. It sounded so distant from his dark solitary association with John. Finch's past was probably even more surprising than he assumed.

"I won't make any promise, Finch, but I will keep that in mind."

"That's all I'm asking."

Finch rose from his chair.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as Bear jumped to his feet, always eager to follow him. "Mozzie, can I ask a favor?"

"Of course, anything," Mozzie promptly answered.

"Would you take care of Bear for me until our return?" Finch asked.

Mozzie cast a slightly worried glance at the Belgian Malinois. The dog seemed peaceful enough, but he looked like he could rip an arm out without even breaking a sweat. A long way from June's miniature dog…

"Okay," he said hesitantly.

Finch smiled. "Do not worry. Bear is more civilized that most human beings. He won't be a problem."

"Never doubted that."

"Although, if you could stick to his dietary supplies, I would appreciate. Mr. Reese shows far too much leniency as regards to his eating habits."

Finch handed him the leash.

"I'll drop you on the way to the airport. Please, do keep us appraised of the situation here while we are away."

And, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he gave him the black hood.

"You entrust me with your dog, but not with the place you work from?"

Finch frowned in reproach and Mozzie sighed defeated.

"Can I have one with my name on it, next time?" he joked.

Finch couldn't help a little amused smile. "Let's go, Mr. Mozzie."

* * *

 

_Laredo, Texas, Monday 10:00 am, La Posada Hotel_

Finch went to the reception desk.

"Hello, I have…"

Before he could finish his sentence, Finch found himself wrapped in Shaw's arms.

"Uncle Harold! What a nice surprise. When Ted told me you were visiting, I couldn't believe it."

Finch stood ramrod straight with a frozen smile on his face. Shaw knew he deeply disliked this kind of contact. Clearly she was making him pay for her "wedding" with John. She let him go only to put two noisy kisses on his cheeks.

Finch cast an aggrieved glance to John. His employee shrugged slightly.

"Not exactly unexpected…"

Finch winced. "I was hoping for more restraint."

They followed the bell boy carrying his luggage to the suite. John barely let him put them down before he pushed him out with a bill.

* * *

 

_Laredo, Monday 4:00 pm, Alvaredo's property_

The Delmotts ringed at the Alvaredos' entrance a few seconds before 4:00. While the gate opened, Shaw looked at the symbol on the pillar.

As expected, security wasn't as tight as the night of the party. No one would have guessed that John was carrying along with the flash drive a miniature camera.

He now needed to happen to meet Neal so as not to raise any suspicions.

As she had dreaded, Shaw –or rather Eleonore– was immediately whisked away by Alma Alvaredo.

"My dear Mrs. Delmott, I'm so glad you accepted our invitation. My husband heard of your technical problems. How dreadful! I know how boring Laredo can be."

"Call me Eleonore, please. Thank you so much for your kind invitation. I'll admit I lost my patience when our pilot told us we had to land here." With light laugh, she put her hand on Alma's arm. "To tell you the truth, at the time I didn't even realize that we could have crashed!"

"Come with me, I'll show you the garden. It feels really nice at this time of the day." She turned to her husband. "Hector, I'm sure you and Mr. Delmott have lots of boring topics to discuss. We'll meet you by the pool later to have a drink."

Taking Shaw by the elbow, she left the room with a determined gait.

John watched her disappear slightly worried, hoping she wouldn't lose patience too soon. He should have found a way to remove her gun from her purse, not that she really needed a gun if she wanted to kill someone…

As for "Ted", he was invited by Hector inside the house. He was ready to answer the usual business questions no doubt Alvaredo had for him. He would need to be careful, no need to have his host realize that John knew way too much about him.

For the moment, he followed Alvaredo down the halls. The man was quite proud of his collection and took a real pleasure showing the paintings on the walls or sculptures on the shelves. John had to admit that he did manage to gather an impressive collection. The place was probably sugar candy for Neal.

Alvaredo was showing him a Turner painting when Neal appeared at the end of the hallway. He showed only a mild interest in his host's guest, and although John knew his talent, he couldn't help being impressed by his demeanor.

"Mr. Caffrey," Alvaredo called him. "Mr. Delmott, let me introduce you Neal Caffrey. He came all the way from New York to spend some time in our little town of Laredo while painting our portrait."

John removed his hand from his pants' pocket to salute him. "Mr. Caffrey, my pleasure."

As agreed, he slipped him the flash drive as well as the micro-camera, along with a small note explaining how to launch the program.

"Mr. Delmott," Caffrey answered shaking the offered hand.

"I'll admit having never thought of ordering our portrait to an artist, but I'm quite sure my wife would love the idea. Do you accept all requests? Would you be available after your engagement with Mr. Alvaredo?"

Neal shrugged, perfectly playing his role. "I'm an artist, Mr. Delmott. I do not live by an agenda. I can't make any promises. Leave me your phone number and I'll contact you."

"With pleasure. I do not have a card with me, but I'll make sure to leave my number with Mr. Alvaredo."

"All right then. Have a good day, Mr. Delmott." With a nod of his head, Neal turned away from the two men.

Alvaredo watched Neal going toward the office, back to his work on the parchment. He turned back to his guest to show him the rest of his collection.

Neal didn't have a lot of time to install the program on Alvaredo's computer. He had to use the reprieve given by the agents' visit, knowing that they would do their best to keep the master of the place out of his office.

The guards that kept checking the halls let him access the office without paying any attention to him. Once again Neal wondered at this slip in Alvaredo's surveillance. The man was so hell bent on being close to his most cherished pieces that he had given him open access to his work place. Neal couldn't believe this was an accident; it probably only proved that there was another office somewhere where the sensitive data was stored.

The difficulties encountered by Finch to enter his system showed the level of paranoia of his host. Alvaredo had thoroughly studied Neal's past. He knew locks wouldn't keep him away from his properties for long. Which implied that the file he had checked a couple of days ago was meant to be seen…

He inserted the flash drive and pressed a key as per the instructions. He had to wait a couple of minutes before removing it. He cast a worried glance to the door that he had carefully closed, hoping Alvaredo wouldn't decide to show his office to his guest.

An "OK" blinked on the screen and Neal quickly removed the drive and turned to the workshop. The rest was up to Finch; as for him he would go back to his work on the treasure map.

He had barely entered the room when Alvaredo and John entered the office. He put his ear to the door. The two men started talking business and Neal couldn't help being impressed by the John's ability to discuss M&As and IPOs.

He remembered that he was supposed to snap pictures of the parchment and then give back the flash drive and camera to John before he left. They had agreed it was better that Neal didn't keep any compromising object in case his room was searched. He took several pictures of the document and some of the room for good measure.

Alvaredo and Reese finally left the office to meet with the women on the terrace. Behind the door, Neal frowned wondering, then smiled to himself. He had just found a way to give the stuff back. He went to his room, put on a swim suit and took a big colored beach towel. It was hot. Nothing like a dip in the pool to freshen up. He was always alone. Easy to forget there were guests in the house…

On the terrace, Alma and Shaw had met their spouses who had promptly jumped to their feet to help them sit down.

"Your garden is absolutely lovely, Alma," Shaw said, showing once more her talent to play high society ladies.

"It is one of my favorite hobbies."

An employee put a tray with drinks on the table, and left without a word.

Alvaredo turned to John.

"It is a pity I only learned about your troubles yesterday. You could have come to our party on Saturday. Some of my guests would have appreciated exchanging with you on views on LBOs."

John and Shaw shared a quick knowing glance.

"I'm sure it was the highlight of the year," Shaw commented.

The rich wife had a fake modest smile.

"Another of my hobbies. That party has turned to be the event of the year in Laredo, I have standards to keep."

A splash at the other end of the pool had them all turn their heads.

Neal swam with powerful strokes turning with ease at the end of the pool and came back out shaking his head. Useless habit with his now short hair. He looked toward the table on the terrace.

Alvaredo was watching him with a slight frown then made a gesture with his hand. Neal got out of the water and dried quickly with the big towel. He came toward the table.

"My apologies, Mr. Alvaredo. I thought I would be alone at this time of the day."

His host accepted the apology with a nod.

"Darling, did you know our guests have recruited Mr. Caffrey to have their portrait painted. What would you think of that idea?" John asked to cut the tension he could feel.

Shaw let her eyes trail on the body of the CI. His impeccable suits didn't do justice to the body underneath it. As a woman, she couldn't deny she enjoyed the view. She smiled sweetly to her husband.

"What a fabulous idea!" She turned to Neal. "Would you consider working for us?" she asked extending her hand.

Neal approached and dried his hand thoroughly on the towel before shaking hers.

"I would be criminal to turn down an opportunity to catch such a smile on a painting, Mrs. Delmott." Letting the towel slip over his arm, he gave her back the flash drive and camera. "It will be a real pleasure."

"I will leave my card for you at the Posada hotel. You can contact me anytime," John added.

Greeting them with a last nod, Neal went back inside, a smug smile coming to his lips. That had gone just fine.

The invitation came to an end when Hector rose and excused himself to join a meeting.

John and Shaw thanked warmly Mrs Alvaredo for their nice afternoon and left the property. They hadn't seen Neal again. But it was probably better that way; no use giving a hint that they knew each other, and that the whole thing was a setup.

When they arrived at the hotel, the two agents shared their impressions about theirs hosts and what they had noticed during their visit.

After her visit of the gardens, Shaw was convinced that the only way to get Neal off the property would be the lake. A plain attack would be suicide against the twelve guards. John concurred as he had been able to have a closer look at the security: cameras everywhere, movement detectors… He had also caught a glimpse of a room full of screens when Alvaredo had been called by a guard. The man had closed the door quickly as if hiding something.

Their hopes were that Neal had been able to get the program on the computer, so that Finch could finally access to the data of their mysterious opponent.

Their boss didn't even look at them when they entered the suite. They had their answer, Neal had achieved his mission. The two agents went to bed a few hours later, leaving their boss complaining at the computer and his inability to access the servers of their enemy. They were facing quite a challenging mystery.

TBC…


	10. Chapter 10

_Laredo, Texas, Tuesday morning, Alvaredo's property_

As most morning, Alvaredo met Neal at the breakfast table on the terrace.

"I want to apologize for yesterday, Mr. Alvaredo. I'm afraid I have gotten used to being your only guest."

"You will of course not contact Mr. Delmott after your departure," his host said in a clipped tone. "If he reaches out to you, you will make sure you are not available."

"Certainly, I understand," Neal answered, thinking that Alvaredo was finally starting to show his real stand.

He drank some coffee.

"If you don't mind, I will not work on the parchment this morning. I would like to visit the Border Heritage museum. I am not going anywhere with the translation. I want to study the area and its past; see if I missed something on the documents you have. Sometimes, a simple comment by a guide gives a whole new perspective to things."

"As I already said, Mr. Caffrey, you are free to use your time as you wish. I only value the results obtained."

Alvaredo's phone rang and he rose to answer privately. Neal frowned. He couldn't wait to see what Finch had found on the computer. His visit to the museum was going to be short, but he wouldn't risk not going. He was pretty sure Alvaredo would check his whereabouts.

* * *

_Laredo, Tx, Tuesday morning, Suite at La Posada Hotel_

Finch was enjoying a cup of tea when John sat by his side for breakfast.

"Did you get any sleep at all, Finch?" John asked.

"Couple of hours. Mr. Alvaredo's system is one of a kind," Finch answered in a tired voice.

"You're taking a break, so I'm assuming you did reach your objective," John commented.

"Sort of," Finch admitted. "Have a coffee, let me enjoy my tea and I'll let you know."

Shaw joined them a few minutes later. Putting his cup down, Finch explained the results of his all-nighter.

He had managed to get access to Neal's transmitter. He could manipulate the GPS positioning to place him where he wanted. He still had to study more thoroughly the data about the system; he really wanted to be sure he knew everything about a device that was actually placed inside a human body.

In the morning, after countless efforts, he had managed to enter the data server and access some information. He hadn't gone in too deeply yet worried he would trip alerts; the system was very well protected and hyper-sensitive. He was still going over the files he had accessed.

* * *

 

_Laredo, Tuesday 12:00, La Posada Hotel_

Neal entered the suite.

Finch had set up his office in the living room, using the TV as a second screen. He was currently video conferencing with Mozzie. More than happy to see his friend, Neal approached the camera.

"Hey, Mozz'," he said leisurely.

"Neal!" The radiant smile on Mozzie's face was probably painful. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine… Much better since you sent the cavalry, I'll admit."

"Not really my doing," the short man minimized.

"You did call John."

"It seemed like the logical thing to do when I found the burner."

Neal froze. The FBI had evidently gone through his belongings, probably tore the loft apart. They had probably missed quite a few hiding spots, but Mozzie's search had certainly been more thorough.

Mozzie couldn't help a chuckle as he saw his friend's crestfallen face.

"Don't worry, your secrets are safe, mon frère."

Neal had a dubious groan.

"Finch sent me the picture of the parchment. No wonder you're stuck. The translation doesn't make any sense. Why don't you tell me about the story behind it?"

Neal got a chair closer to the computer and told him about the story as Alvaredo had told him.

"Wait, wait, wait…" Mozzie interrupted him. "You're telling me Alvaredo's ancestor, a Spanish military, wrote the document?"

"Yes, to keep the location secret. The Technotitlan's gold symbol is the only one that really makes sense, and confirms what the map stands for."

"But… Neal!" Mozzie fulminated and shot up from his chair, unable to remain seated as he was about to launch in lengthy explanations.

Recognizing the signs, Neal sighed, and reclined back on the chair. Sometimes Mozzie just found it hard to deal with people less intelligent than he was.

Realizing that his friend couldn't see him anymore, Mozzie's face reappeared on the screen.

"It is simply impossible that Alvaredo knew the meaning of Aztec symbols! Writing was reserved to the government and priestly elite. Remember that writing was almost a sacred function; it was a symbol of power. The ability to record and perpetuate the past had a mystical value. Furthermore, most Spanish soldiers couldn't even read at all. The first translations we have are from the Jesuit priests who wanted to understand the writing… and then thoroughly destroyed them because it went against their own religious beliefs. It's…"

"Mozzie!" Neal called him dryly.

If he was allowed to Mozzie would go on ranting about the errors committed by the conquerors and no one would be able to stop his diatribe.

Mozzie scoffed. He started again more calmly. "There is just no way your ancestor wrote the text, Neal. He either had a native do it for him, but from your tale it doesn't sound like it, or he just used the symbols to decorate the parchment and confuse people."

Neal paled visibly. Totally focused on translating the symbols, he had indeed tuned out that Alvaredo Sr couldn't possibly know the Aztec writing. He jumped from his chair and started to pace, cursing himself.

"How can I be so stupid… Of all the... It just changes everything… No wonder no one can decipher that thing!"

He was walking around the room. His hand went to his head and he winced when his fingers found the short hair. He would never get used to the haircut.

"How do you expect me to find the meaning of the message?"

He stopped to watch one of the pictures he had taken with the camera and that Finch had printed out. The document was upside down. He frowned and started turning around the coffee table.

"Oh God…" he whispered.

Finch and John had remained quiet, fascinated by the conversation between the two men whose brains just seemed to spark with intelligence.

"Finch, do you have the picture of the parchment on your computer?" He turned to the man in front of the screen.

"Yes, of course," Harold answered bringing it up.

"Can you superimpose the lake?"

"The humidity stain is not humidity!" Mozzie exclaimed, understanding what Neal had just seen.

"I don't think so…"

Finch brought up the map of Lake Casablanca over the parchment and moved it until some spots aligned.

"Close enough," Neal mumbled.

"Wait," Finch intervened, caught up by the brainstorming. "These borders are the current ones. If we modify them to show probable variations since 1520 or so…" His fingers flew over the keyboard, "… it would look more like this."

"Guess X didn't mark the sport yet by then…" Neal said shaking his head in amusement.

He put his finger over the "Tenochtitlan's gold" symbol. Tilting his head, he moved his finger over the other symbols. The weird feeling he had had a few nights ago came back.

"Finch, can you find a map of the local night sky?"

His mind rolling with the discoveries, Finch immediately understood the request.

"The symbols would only be points representing the stars?"

"Yes, to signify how to position yourself on the ground in order to find the hiding spot."

"How on earth did you get there?" John wondered.

"A few nights ago I was out and I stopped to admire the sky." He turned to John. "You can't see the stars in New York. I had forgotten how beautiful it is. I had a weird feeling when I watched the sky, as if it should have reminded me of something but I couldn't figure what."

He pointed to the picture. "When I realized the symbols were only dots, it just made sense."

He traced a date on the corner of the document. "We even have the time of the year to check. Try to get the night sky for March."

"That easy?" Mozzie protested from New York.

"Yes. This is a plain treasure map. Alvaredo just tried to hide its simplicity by using a writing he knew would be impossible to decipher."

"Which turned out to be a tremendous idea that has baffled specialists for decades," Mozzie grumbled.

"Who naturally just tried to make sense of the glyphs."

Finch had finished positioning the elements on the document. He added the GPS coordinates corresponding to the Tenochtitlan symbol.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present you Alvaredo's treasure location," Neal proclaimed with a sense of decorum.

He looked at Mozzie and smiled. His friend gave him his smile back. The joy of cracking the riddle was far more gratifying than simply finding it. As usual, they found more pleasure in the treasure hunt and the challenge than the actual riches involved.

Not wanting to lose any more time, they came up with a plan in less than one hour.

Neal would go back to the property and pretending to go on a ride would take a quad to the location pointed in the map. Getting to it from the ground would be easier. Finch gave him a GPS to find the spot once he got there. It still was an approximation and some searching would be needed once on site.

As for Shaw and John they would reach the property from the lake. Mr. and Mrs. Delmott had decided to do some water skiing to entertain themselves.

"Mr. Caffrey, I now have access to your transmitter," Finch informed him.

Neal glanced at his ankle without thinking then smiled. "Old habits die hard," he whispered to himself.

"As soon as you get to the property, I will launch a loop that will place you in the workshop. You will be able to move around unsuspiciously."

"Perfect. Thank you."

"As soon as we get the mask, we will probably need to leave very fast. You will need to deactivate Neal's transmitter," John intervened.

"It won't be a problem. I will be ready."

Neal left the hotel first, going back to the property.

* * *

 

_Laredo, Tuesday 3:00 pm, Alvaredo's property_

Neal went to his room to change clothes. His light town suit, perfect for the museum, wasn't ideal to go on a ride into the desert. He took some of his notes. If anyone stopped him, he would just pretend doing some research on the field. He took a quad and drove toward the gate Shaw had seen on the eastern wall.

He cast a glance at his watch. Right on time for guards' change. He had taken note of the times during his stay. It was the only moment he could leave the house without being noticed. Finch would launch the loop putting him in the office. He was just hoping it would give him enough time before someone noticed he wasn't really there. He knew the guards didn't rely entirely on the surveillance cameras and made regular rounds.

He was at the gate shortly and was glad the quad was narrow enough to get through the door. John had provided him with an electronic device to open the lock. He silently thanked him for the foresight. He had requested a pack of lock picks, falling back to his habits, but this was much better.

Once outside the limits of the house's gardens, the local vegetation was back, the desert was unforgiving. Mesquite, cacti, bushes of all kinds hid quantities of water birds. Lizards reminded him that they didn't mind the heat, unlike Neal who was feeling it upon his neck. No wonder people wore wide brimmed hats in the area. His cap only protected his eyes, and he was glad he had taken a scarf, though the quality of the cloth spoke of different activities.

He soon saw the cliffs, most probably the old shores of the lake, back to a time when the desert wasn't as large. The area had been an important cattle producer; the desert had expanded since the first settlers had made this land their own.

He cast a glance to the lake, but couldn't see any boat close by. His friends weren't there yet. He sincerely hoped they would make it on time. If Alvaredo's guards found him before their arrival, chances were his bones would be drying in the desert very soon.

He stopped to check the map and the GPS. A couple of miles and he'd be on the spot noted on the map. Then the search might take some time. Where was the treasure? Buried in the ground? Inside a cave in a cliff?

He was starting to think that deciphering the parchment had only been the tip of the iceberg. He stopped in a small canyon. He looked around, then back at the picture. Surrounded by the walls of the canyon, he didn't see that much sky; which explained the weird star map. He turned until he was exactly in the same position. Alvaredo Sr must have drawn parts of this during the night. That man had really gone to great lengths to hide his secret…

Stopping when he thought he couldn't get any closer to the place signaled in the drawing, he started watching the rocks.

"Where did you hide your treasure?" he whispered to the wind.

He watched the lines made by centuries of sediments and saw some fossils. He opened his eyes wide when he saw an unexpected shape. He had read that dinosaurs had been found in the area, he never would have dreamt to actually see traces of one. He frowned watching the shape more closely.

"I'll be… Unbelievable…"

He watched the picture of the parchment again and the fossilized trace of a prehistoric animal. He burst out laughing. The shape on the rock was the same as the one on the parchment. The Aztec symbol looked a lot like the fossil; that it actually also looked like the city's name had been pure coincidence.

"Tenochtitlan's gold indeed… Alvaredo, you little rascal."

As far as Aztec writing went, the ancestor of his kidnaper had only been using funny drawings to represent the location.

He approached the cliff and started pushing branches. An opening was visible behind the bushes. Glad to have taken a machete (which the local Mexican gardeners used every day), he started clearing the path to the cave he could see in the shade.

If riding the quad had been a sweaty experience, cutting through prickly bushes was even worse. He stepped back to take a breath.

"Need help?" said a voice.

Neal turned back raising his weapon. He scoffed when he saw Shaw and John.

"Are you crazy jumping people like that?" Neal complained putting the machete down.

"You're good with that thing," John praised, ignoring Neal's comment.

Reese took the machete and carried on clearing the path. A while later, the three of them entered the cave. It was cool inside and they all sighed in pleasure.

Shaw turned on a flashlight and swept the walls with it. Several openings were visible.

"You've got a map of the maze in your parchment?" she asked in a teasing tone.

Neal groaned. A new riddle? He watched the picture closely. Nothing indicated a labyrinth!

He could see the glyph for "house", with the quadripartite over it. He hadn't been able to make sense of that one. With a little bit –okay, a lot– of stretching it could look like a door…

He took Shaw's flashlight and watched the walls closely. The fossil was so small, he almost missed it. The quadripartite of the parchment, which had made no sense whatsoever, was actually a fossilized ammonite. Alvaredo Sr had a very personal sense of humor…

"Here," he said, pointing to the fossil.

He moved the light on the wall and saw further down another ammonite. Keeping his fingers on the wall, he walked forward up to the drawing of the fossil carved on the rock. Going down the corridor, he followed the marks on the walls.

They soon arrived in front of a wood plank against the wall. They quickly moved it, a big smile on their faces.

Behind the opening lay a wide cave. John took his own flashlight and two big white circles moved over the room. In the center, on some sort of altar, laid Hector Alvaredo's personal holy grail: the mask of the Gods.

The flashlights made the golden feathers shine; the jade eyes seemed almost liquid under the shivering light. It was even more beautiful than the representations Neal had seen.

He walked slowly toward it, in respectful silence. It was gorgeous. This object deserved to be admired by everyone, not locked away in the private collection of some demented megalomaniac. Neal reached over then took his hand back, remembering the legends giving the mask specific powers. Not that he was superstitious, but bacteria had killed archeologists before; he didn't want to tempt fate.

John was watching Neal. He could see the man was fascinated by the discovery. He understood who the CI was. The criminal was just a lover of beautiful things. He didn't steal for the money; the challenge of the theft and being able to admire the most exquisite art were his real drive.

Shaw swept the room one more time.

"Where's the treasure?" she asked, moving back to a corner.

"What?" Neal jumped in surprise, lost in his contemplation.

"You did mention gold and silver."

Except for the mask, the cave was almost empty.

"Guess he spent it all…" Neal answered distractedly while he approached a lance. "Look at that! It's Alvaredo's spear. It saved his life when they ran away from the Aztec."

He touched the steel blade with one finger. "The history Museum in Mexico is going to be thrilled…"

Not your usual thief, John thought watching him. Neal was indeed quite surprising.

The young man put the spear back against the wall and came back to the mask, kneeling by its side to observe it more in detail.

"Mr. Caffrey, I knew I was right to acquire your services." Alvaredo's voice boomed from the cave's entrance.

* * *

 

TBC

* * *

 

AN. Lake Casablanca is a reservoir built in the 70s. For fiction purposes, we admitted it is a natural lake that has always existed. Please bear with us, and forgive us for this slight geographical discrepancy.


	11. Chapter 11

_ Laredo, Texas, Tuesday 4:00 pm, cave on the shores of Lake Casablanca, Alvaredo's property _

Neal jumped in surprised and John chastised himself for being caught as a rookie. His hand flew to his back, but one of Alvaredo's men appeared by his side, gun pointed at them.

Alvaredo approached the mask and watched around, raising a surprised eyebrow.

"I'm afraid you'll need to postpone the purchase of your island, Mr. Caffrey. It seems my ancestor has spent all of his gold…"

He nodded to his bodyguard who moved his gun, inviting Neal and John to step away from the mask. Both men moved slowly.

Alvaredo brushed the mask with his fingertips, clearly fascinated by the object.

"You read the documents, Mr. Caffrey. You learned about the powers of this artefact, didn't you?"

His eyes grew cold. "I guess that's when you decided not to uphold your part of the contract."

He surveyed John from head to toe.

"As for you, whoever you really are, congratulations. I am rarely fooled so easily. Mr. and Mrs. Delmott did look real. I don't know who created your aliases, but they are a piece of art; I thought my own teams were the best, but yours border on genius."

Ignoring the silent men facing him, Alvaredo took the mask, then raised his eyes to Neal.

"Unlocking the gate on the wall alerted my guards. It is almost never opened," he explained. "The proper code was used, so they first thought one of the guards was just checking it. Unfortunately no guard was assigned in that area at that time."

"I am of course well aware of your spectacular evasion from a high security prison. I know your expertise. I immediately sent a guard to check that you were where your transmitter said. I wasn't really surprised when it turned out the office was empty."

"If you thought that hacking your signal would allow you to move freely…" He shook his head as if saddened by the mistake. "It actually made it worse for you."

He kept talking, eyes shining as they examined the mask.

"I therefore turned to more conventional methods. Your luck actually ran out. One of the guards saw you leaving on a quad. Following you was then quite easy. Mr. Caffrey did you really think that the vehicles on my property wouldn't be tagged?"

Neal winced slightly. He hadn't thought about that. The quads were not meant to leave the property. He should have guessed that with the level of paranoia his host suffered, everything was monitored.

"As it turns out, Neal, you are going to lose it all. No gold, obviously, but I'm afraid you're going to die in this cave. A traitor deserves nothing else. We had an agreement; you failed your part."

Neal wasn't surprised by Alvaredo's statement; he didn't let fear overcome him, and actually asked a question with a light smile on his lips.

"As a gentleman, you'll allow me a final favor? Rachel Turner. Would you care to explain? I saw her file in your desk. I'll admit I don't understand…"

"She has worked quite extensively for me. She had a talent to recover art all over the world. Anyone, even an MI-5 agent will sell his services for the right price. Her last assignment was the Mosconi codex. I really wanted that pink diamond. Very few have seen it; you know how much I value those pieces…"

"You were quite helpful. Of course she made the mistake of really falling in love with you." Alvaredo watched him from head to toe as if trying to determine what Rachel had seen in him. "That made her vulnerable and then fail. Being behind bars is the only reason she is still alive. I do not accept failure, Mr. Caffrey. Ms. Turner knew exactly what she was facing once you deceived her."

Focused on Neal and John, Alvaredo and his guard hadn't noticed the third silhouette hiding in the dark. Silent as a shadow, Shaw had grabbed the spear that Neal had left against the wall and drove it through Alvaredo's guard. A gun shot exploded and a third man, posted outside the cave, came in. He was holding an automatic large weapon and when he fired, pieces of rock from the walls flew all over the place.

Over Alvaredo's head a stalactite exploded and a large piece of the ceiling came down, burying him under a shower of rocks. The whole cave seemed on the verge of crumbling down.

"No!" Neal yelled rushing over to save the mask.

"Neal, stop!" John tried to stop him, but his fingers barely touched the back of the former thief.

Shrugging to protect himself from the rocks still falling, Neal managed to rip the mask from Alvaredo's hands.

The man was covered with debris, only his hands were visible, and part of his face. He looked up at Neal with a smug smile. "See you soon," he whispered before a shower of rocks buried him definitely.

Between Alvaredo's fingers, Neal saw the remote and tensed for a second. He sighed in relief when he didn't feel any pain in his leg, his kidnapper hadn't activated it. A big piece of rock hit him and he lost his balance, falling to the ground.

John, in the confusion, had drawn his gun and shattered both knees of the second guard; the first one was lying unconscious at Shaw's feet.

"This place is going to cave in any minute now. Get out!" Shaw yelled over the sounds of the rocks falling.

John ran to Neal, grabbing him by the shoulders and roughly pushing him out of the cave. They had barely cleared the door when the whole ceiling came down, covering everything in a huge cloud of dust.

They remained on the ground letting the dust settle, coughing, eyes tearing. Shaw was the first one up, still holding the spear. Being closer to the door of the cave, she had been able to get further away from the rock slide.

The flashlights had fallen to the ground when the shots had started and were now beneath the rocks; she couldn't see a thing. She took her phone which fortunately hadn't suffered from the fall and turned the integrated light on.

"Well… I guess he wanted to be buried on his ancestor's land anyway," she said watching the definitively closed entrance by the pale light of the phone.

John got up and turned his own phone on for some light. He went to Neal who still hadn't moved.

"Neal?" he called putting a hand to his back.

Caffrey was still holding the mask tightly against his chest. He coughed again and groaned in pain.

"You're hurt?"

Neal winced as he moved slightly. "Give me a minute."

He slowly managed to get to his knees, never letting go of the mask. "Damn…" He grunted, scrunching his eyes in pain.

"Caffrey!" John insisted realizing something was wrong.

"Wrecked my left shoulder," Neal complained.

John frowned and touched the upper arm. Neal yelled.

"Shit, John! Told you it hurt!"

"Sorry," John apologized, though he had barely touched him. "Neal, your shoulder is dislocated."

"Just great, this is getting better and better…"

"Can I set it?"

Neal paled, unconsciously moving backwards.

"I won't lie, it will definitely hurt. But if you let it swell, it will get worse."

The CI gulped and closed his eyes. John was right of course. But that didn't make it any easier. He wasn't a wuss, but seeing how the shoulder was hurting now, he couldn't begin to imagine how it would feel when the ex-agent would take care of it. He exhaled deeply.

"Okay," he whispered.

John went for the mask and Neal moved back, protecting the treasure. The ex-agent raised an amused eyebrow and Neal answered with a wince, giving him the artefact, moaning again when the gesture jolted his shoulder.

John gave the mask to Shaw, and Neal watched her worriedly.

"Calm down Caffrey. I do not believe in the power of this thing. And in the unlikely event that it would be true, 'Master of the world', seriously? Only you guys…" she added with a disgusted face.

She slipped the mask under her arm and turned her phone to John to give him some light while he took care of Neal's shoulder.

Helping Neal to sit, John moved the shirt aside to have a better look at the shoulder. The younger man hissed and paled visibly.

"All right, relax. Breathe deep," said John putting a light hand on his shoulder, barely touching him. "I will count to three. So for now, try to relax… easy… breathe slowly…"

He brushed the arm softly.

"One… that's it, relax, good," he said when he felt Neal releasing some of the tension. "Two…" with a swift move, John pulled the arm and set the bone back.

Neal yelled and he lashed his right hand out to grab John's shirt. Eyes scrunched tight, he moaned while trying to get air in his lungs.

"Easy… control your breath. In and out slowly," John instructed as he started to rub softly Neal's right shoulder to distract him from the pain.

Slowly, Neal's breathing started to become more even.

"You lied to me… You said on three…" he complained.

"You want me to go over it again?" John replied deadpanned.

Neal opened his eyes to look at him. "Thanks."

He suddenly felt a cold sweat break out and he let his eyes close. John slapped him sharply.

"Neal, no! You're not passing out on me now. Neal, stay with me."

With a visible effort, Neal managed to open his eyes. "Not going anywhere…"

"Well, I was rather hoping we would. We've got a boat, you're interested?"

Neal gave a wincing smile and put a hand to the ground to rise. John stopped him with a hand.

"Wait," he said watching around him.

When they had entered the cave, Neal had removed his scarf. John pulled on the cloth half buried under the rocks. A tearing sound echoed.

Neal couldn't help a whimper.

John frowned. The pain should have subsided lightly by now. "Neal?"

"I thought it would just need washing. You know how much that piece of cloth costs…" Neal explained almost whining.

Reese couldn't help shaking his head.

"I'll ask Finch's tailor to send you a new one, okay?"

"He has a real British tailor?"

"The best in town."

"I don't doubt that, I've seen his suits…" Neal said with a dreamy look.

John put the loop around Neal's neck and tucked his arm. "How does this feel?"

"Better, thank you."

Neal exhaled deeply, trying to control the tremors in his body.

"I got shot a couple of years ago…"

John raised an eyebrow wondering why the conman was telling him that.

"The FBI agent sent to get me didn't embarrass himself with procedures. For that matter, neither did the doctor who treated me…"

"Neal?" John prompted.

"Collins shot me in cold blood just to make sure I couldn't run. Then the doctor didn't bother in wasting anesthetics to get the bullet out."

Reese winced in sympathy. "Ouch… I've had my share; that hurts."

"Yes of course, you know… I mean, I've seen you having your share…"

"Neal, why are you telling me this?" Reese couldn't make sense of this train of thought.

"I was trying to identify if this hurts worse…"

John frowned still at a loss.

"You know comparing facts coldly to actually forget about the real situation…"

"Okay…" Reese answered slowly. Caffrey had a very personal pain management system. "Why don't we get your mind out of it by getting out of this place?"

Neal rose, accepting John's helping hand.

They left the cave and ran to the lake. While they were getting on the boat, they heard engines. Alvaredo's guards were arriving on quads. Neal looked at John with a worried face.

"Guess the third guard called for reinforcement before he shot at us," John commented with a wince.

He started the boat, pushing the engines as fast as they would go, hoping the guards wouldn't chase them immediately. He hadn't seen any boat close by.

John called their pilot.

"Dirk, are you at the Falcon?" he asked.

"I'm not. Jay is at the airport though. Why?" Dirk answered.

"How long before we can leave?"

"Less than one hour, I'd say," Dirk informed him. "Fuel is okay."

"Ask Jay to be prepared for take-off. Go to the hotel and get Finch. We'll meet you at the Falcon. We may need to leave in a rush."

After crossing the lake, the two ex-agents and Neal crossed the Country Club unmolested. Their clothes covered in dust raised some eyebrows, but no one stopped them. John got behind the wheel of the rental car and drove toward the airport.

* * *

 

_Laredo, Texas, 5:00 pm, Alvaredo's property_

In an underground office, Steve, the secretary, had just started a call.

"Why are you breaking protocol?" a British voice, visibly upset, asked.

Not bothering with pleasantries, the secretary went straight to the point.

"Alvaredo had a personal quest –a Shaman's mask supposed to help predict the future. This weird project has just cost him his life. He had kidnapped a Neal Caffrey to help him find it but it turns out he underestimated his skills."

"I don't know if the mask even existed, but the guards just called me to let me know there was a rock slide in a cave close to the lake. Alvaredo is dead. Our men saw a boat leaving when they arrived after a guard called for reinforcement. Neal Caffrey escaped with a man named Delmott."

Steve went on with his report.

"We could still stop them but I'm afraid of the exposure. I wanted…"

His superior stopped him.

"You're right. Do not go after them. Erase all traces of Alvaredo in Laredo; that includes Mrs Alvaredo."

"I will take care of it," Steve answered coldly.

"I'd still like to know who they were. Do you have images of these individuals?"

Steve turned to the operator by his side. He launched a search in his system and the results left him dumbfounded.

On the other side of the call, the white haired man was getting impatient. "Well? I am waiting for a video of those people to identify them!" he insisted.

"All the data has disappeared, Sir. All videos from the house and gardens are missing. Everything in the past five days has been erased, including the back-up safeguards…" Steve uttered in a broken voice. "That's impossible. This system is totally secure…"

"What about the police network?" the man asked in a clearly bothered tone.

"The whole city system is down!" the operator shouted. "All recordings also disappeared," he answered not waiting for Steve to ask him.

"The situation is even worse than you said! You have been compromised. Destroy immediately the network in Laredo. I'm afraid I may know who launched this attack. Delete all systems and material. Clean everything and come back to New York."

"Immediately, Mr. Greer," Steve answered before ending the call.

On the computer screen, the symbol of the Illuminati glowed one last time before everything went dark.

* * *

 

Laredo, Texas, Tuesday 17h00, airport

Reese had just driven the car through the airport entrance when Finch called him.

"Where are you?" he asked in a clipped tone.

John noticed the unusual worry in the voice.

"We'll be at the plane in three minutes," John answered. "Why?"

"Just… hurry," Finch ordered.

Reese felt his uneasiness grow and Shaw turned to him feeling the tense atmosphere. John glanced her way quickly conveying his ignorance.

Parking the car close to the plane, Reese helped Neal get in the Falcon. His pale face clearly showed that he was fighting against the pain in his shoulder.

Finch looked up from his computer before they even cleared the entrance.

"Are you being followed or can we stay on the ground for a few more minutes?"

"We haven't seen anyone so far, it might not last though," John answered while Shaw kept watch by the door, her gun drawn.

"Finch, will you tell us what's going on?" John shot in an irritated tone.

"We have a last minute problem," Finch answered, focused on his keyboard.

Neal sat down in silence, letting the two men deal with the new problem. John went by Finch's side and the view on the computer didn't appease him. A countdown was displayed, with only three minutes to go.

"Finch?"

"Neal, do you feel anything in your left leg, by the transmitter?"

John frowned upon hearing Finch using the CI's first name. It was rare enough that it was unsettling.

Bothered by his shoulder that hurt like hell, Neal had completely forgotten about the transmitter. He made an effort to focus on his leg.

"Not really… I don't feel the surges that let me know I've gone over my radius," Neal added feeling relieved.

"Which is totally normal since the airport is within the range," Finch noted. "You're sure you don't feel anything else?" he insisted.

Neal frowned, trying to ignore his throbbing shoulder.

"Actually, now that you mention it. It does feel kind of warm… hot even," he exclaimed in surprise, putting his hand on his calf.

He clenched his teeth suddenly. The shooting pain in his shoulder had covered the heat spreading in his leg. But now that he was paying attention it kept growing in intensity.

John came by his side and touched the leg. "Neal! Now is not the time for play hero. Your thigh is burning up!" He turned to his employer. "Finch, what's going on? I thought you had access to the transmitter?"

Finch kept typing at a blurring pace while he answered to his partner.

"While you were in the cave someone started a countdown. I hadn't been able to go over all of the system's functions when the pilot rushed me out of the hotel. Since then I found out that a triple impulse on the remote has started it about forty minutes ago. When it reaches zero, an explosion will destroy the device. Considering where it has been placed it will severe the femoral artery. All of Ms Shaw's expertise won't prevent Mr. Caffrey from bleeding to death."

Neal paled remembering a scene in the cave.

"Alvaredo…" he gulped. "Alvaredo started it. He had the remote in his hand right before he died. He said 'see you soon'…" he whispered, his face ashen.

John turned to his employer. "Finch, can't you stop this?"

"I'm doing everything I can!" Finch answered in a sharp tone. "The whole system has just been disconnected, as if the servers had been destroyed. Fortunately, I had made a copy of the control program on my computer. I still cannot figure out half the data related to this transmitter…" he grumbled.

Shaw turned her head to them. She had heard the whole conversation and didn't like feeling useless.

Focused on his screen, Finch finally found a program and was about to press a key.

He turned to John with a worried look, then whispered, almost for himself "if you believe in prayers, now would be a good time… This is the only solution I see…"

They had less than one minute. He pressed the key.

Finch and Reese had their eyes on the screen.

The countdown kept going down. Only thirty seconds left…

Neal had closed his eyes, going over the faces of his friends in his mind. Mozz, Peter, El, Clinton and Diana. His family in New York. He held his breath, counting the seconds.

The heat on his leg kept growing, he couldn't help a moan.

"Finch…"

* * *

 

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

_ Laredo, Texas, Tuesday 6:10 pm, airport _

The silence was deafening in the cabin. Finch and John had their eyes riveted on the countdown, Shaw watched them from the plane's door.

Neal, eyes closed, counted the seconds waiting for the explosion in his leg.

When he reached thirty five, he opened a tentative eye.

The guarded relief on John and Harold's faces was obvious despite their usually plain expressions. Apparently, the IT genius had once again proven his exceptional talent and stopped the process. The silence lingered while they all fully realized the close call.

John was the first to talk. "It's over, Finch?"

His employer took a few seconds before answering, only half confident.

"Yes. So far, he is safe. The transmitter is deactivated but I'll only feel totally reassured when Ms. Shaw or some doctor removes it from Mr. Caffrey's body."

Neal jumped from the seat, as if needing to get away from the place he had almost died on. But his shoulder complained at the sudden movement and his legs collapsed as he fell unconscious before anyone could get a hand to stop him.

Shaw immediately came to his side while John closed the Falcon's door and ordered the pilots to leave.

* * *

 

Neal woke up nearly an hour later. Someone was holding his wrist. He blinked and had to clear his throat before being able to talk.

"Shaw…"

"Hey! I was starting to think I'd need to kiss you awake…" the young woman joked.

John appeared at his side. "One more victim of your charm, Neal?"

Ignoring the vibe, Neal tried to rise but all of his muscles complained.

"Easy, your body has been through a lot," Shaw explained.

"No kidding." He nodded his thanks to John who had straightened his chair. "What happened?"

"You passed out."

Neal shot her an irritated look; he had gathered that much.

"I'd love to pick that thing apart. It's a real beauty. The power…" Shaw gushed. She stopped short when she saw Neal's dismayed face. "I thought that kind of technology was only experimental so far. Lobbies are doing everything they can to stop their development, arguing they violate human rights. But I guess that with the right financial means…"

"It will be my pleasure to give it to you once I get rid of it."

"Which I advise you do as soon as possible," Finch stepped in.

Three sets of eyes looked at him.

"I managed to destroy the transmitter sending out the signal, but the tracker in your leg is still active…"

"Hence being actionable again," John concluded.

Neal winced. He almost longed for the FBI's anklet. He gladly accepted the glass of water Shaw handed him.

He remained silent, lost in his own thoughts. How was he going to manage his return to New York? The whole FBI was after him…

Would Peter believe him when he explained he had been kidnapped by a megalomaniac to translate a 500 years old Aztec parchment? Actually, the story was crazy enough to sound true, maybe that would save him in the end. But having to go on serving his time for the FBI, with a new handler, was definitely not sitting right with him.

Maybe he could ask Finch to make a stopover before landing in New York…

The billionaire came to sit on the next chair.

"Would you like some tea, Mr. Caffrey?" Finch asked.

Neal raised his eyes and realized John had vanished. He was probably in the cockpit with Dirk. Those two were thick as thieves.

Neal smiled. Mozzie was the tea lover…

"John told me about your tailor," Neal answered, admiring the perfectly cut suit the man was wearing.

Finch raised a surprised eyebrow.

"Mr. Reese does not always seem to realize the importance of a proper suit cut."

Neal smiled in amusement.

"Take the way he treated your scarf," Finch pointed out.

"How do you know he made the sling?"

"You would have never ripped such a nice quality material," Finch explained as if it was obvious. "As for Mr. Reese, I suspect he cannot make the difference between silk and viscose."

"That's hard, Finch…" Neal reproached softly.

"On the other hand, he can recognize his grenade-launcher on blurry video surveillance images…" he mumbled.

"I don't think I would make the difference between a grenade-launcher and a missile launcher even if I had it in front of me," Neal shot back.

Neal had always thought Finch and Mozzie had a lot in common. But apparently, he also shared some traits with the IT genius.

"Tea would be nice, Harold."

* * *

 

"So Finch, you found anything interesting in Alvaredo's system?" Neal asked enjoying his tea.

"Quite a few. Still, I think we barely found the tip of the iceberg. The intricacies of the network are quite impressive."

"I have however other information that may be of interest to you," Finch informed him turning to his computer and willing to change the topic of the conversation.

"The FBI has a new anklet model?" Neal asked with a bored wince.

Finch sit up, surprised by the weariness of the young man usually so full of life.

"Mr. Alvaredo is linked to your release denial. We are working on the file and will hopefully have positive results very soon."

"So I won't be rotting too long in prison?"

"I may not have properly filled out the flight manifest, namely on the number of passengers…" Neal raised an interested eyebrow. "I thought you might want to keep under the radar for a few days. You can hide in a safe house where your safety will be ensured."

A light smile finally appeared on Neal's face. Maybe the world wasn't that black after all.

"Thank you," he answered softly.

When John came out of the cockpit, the two men were sitting enjoying a cup of green tea. Shaw appeared a few minutes later from the back of the plane where she had been having a shower.

"Finch turned you over to tea, Neal?" John asked as they were putting their cups down.

Finch pointed to John's pant which showed a tear in the fabric.

"What did I tell you," he said in a low voice to Neal.

John frowned and cast a glance to his leg pant. He had actually heard the rip but hadn't paid much attention.

"I was sharing with Neal your little interest in clothing."

"You're still mad at me because of your scarf?" John exclaimed looking at Neal with a smile.

Neal shook his head with an amused smile.

"How are you feeling, Neal?" It was clear he wasn't just asking about his health.

Neal opened his mouth to answer then sighed. "Honestly John, I don't know…"

Reese gave him a sympathizing wince and went to sit on one of the couches by the window.

Finch turned to Neal again.

"Mr. Caffrey, as you already know, Mr. Alvaredo had been observing you for quite some time. Mr. Reese told me about your research on the Mosconi codex and…"

His voice wavered. He knew the topic was a sensitive one.

"Rebecca," Neal supplied.

Finch nodded slowly.

"We are convinced she is the reason of Ms. Ellis' departure."

"Sara?"

"The FBI has found out that Ms. Turner was a former MI-5 agent selling confidential information to the highest bidder."

"Yes, Alvaredo admitted he had asked her to unlock the secret behind the Mosconi codex in order to find the pink diamond."

"Exactly. He's the one who provided her all the elements about your past and helped her create 'Rebecca'. Finally, in order for you to be available, they arranged for Ms. Ellis to go back to London."

Neal sighed deeply. He had never understood why Sara had left. She had disappeared without giving any information. He had already purchased the ring and organized the evening during which he was going to propose. His list of grievances at Alvaredo kept getting longer.

"What eludes me, however, is why Mr. Alvaredo isn't looking for the diamond anymore. I haven't found any indication that he would like to get it."

"And you won't find any," Neal explained. "Alvaredo prides himself in gathering mysterious and secret art. That diamond has attracted far too much attention to interest him anymore. The diamond is safe… As far as Alvaredo goes," Neal added. "It will still attract other thieves of course."

"That man is quite surprising," Finch whispered frowning.

The bespectacled man sighed, seemingly hesitating on how to proceed.

"You have more surprises? Shoot. There's no way I can move for the moment, so you're perfectly safe," Neal coaxed him in a tired voice.

"Neal, if you think you can touch one of Finch's hair before I stop you…" John shot from the other side of the cabin.

He was sprawled on an armchair, his eyes closed; Neal had thought he was sleeping. Apparently the ex-spy never rested.

"Don't worry, Neal. I will defend you," Shaw piped in.

The two agents sized each other up for a few seconds, a light amused smile on their lips. Neal watched them amazed. Every time he had been around them, they had serious matters on hand. They were sharp and fit like scalpels; their eyes cold and measuring, capable of killing in a single hand move. Seeing them actually joking was such a contrast, it was almost surrealistic.

Finch handed him a file.

"As I told you, Alvaredo was behind Miss Ellis' departure. These documents have been given to her a little under a year ago."

Neal took the file and started reading the documents. His face went blank.

The falsified documents implicated Neal in a quantity of murky deals, each as dark as the other. But where a less intelligent enemy would have piled charges, Alvaredo had done it with a level of subtlety worth praising. The facts were dire enough that Neal appeared as a horrible criminal, but just this side of believable to fit with his past and character. Sara knew about his shady past and had come to terms with it. Alvaredo had found the precise line that had made his girlfriend step back.

"That man was a real genius…" Neal gasped.

Under other circumstances, Neal would have probably admired him. Such a talent deserved credit.

Alvaredo had manipulated his life for almost a year. As Neal was ready to propose to Sara, she had left without a word of explanation. He glanced at the documents again. He really couldn't blame her for that; he would have probably acted the same way if the roles had been reversed. Then Rebecca had made an entrance, the perfect symbiosis of his female ideal… He felt his heart tighten, just like every time he thought about her. It would have been so much easier to just hate her.

He handed the file back to Finch.

"You can keep it," the billionaire offered.

"No, thanks. I'll probably end up regretting not having committed those crimes," Neal answered, his eyes lost in the weaving of the carpeting.

Finch rose, looking at John. Human relationships weren't his forte. Neal seemed deeply depressed, talking would probably help. Even if John wasn't necessarily the most happy soul right now after the horrendous weeks he had gone through recently.

Reese filled up two glasses with whisky and sat in the armchair Finch had just vacated. Neal didn't seem to notice him. He waved the glass in front of his face several times before the man reacted.

"Sorry. I guess I drifted," Neal apologized.

"Here, drink this," he told him handing him the glass. "I know you prefer wine, but good vintages do not travel well."

"Thanks," Neal answered taking a sip. He opened his eyes wide and sipped again. "Thank you," he repeated more earnestly, his eyes glowing in pleasure.

"Finch only gets the best," John whispered as if revealing a major secret.

They shared their drinks in companionable silence.

"What happened?" Neal asked.

"Sorry?" John asked, not understanding the question.

"You changed… since the last time I met you I mean." Neal watched him right in the eyes, tilting his head slightly as if reading his mind. "Something happened, something serious enough that it changed your vision of things."

John looked at Neal dumbfounded. He had already noticed the exceptional skills of the CI, but this level of perception was close to clearvoyance. He shook his head slowly.

"You're incredible…"

"Someone close?"

"More than I had realized before she passed…" John whispered.

"Happens more often than not. You realize the value of things when they're actually gone."

"Sara…"

"I keep losing Sara. That's probably a sign we're not meant to be…" Neal watched the bottom of his glass as if expecting to find an answer in it, then gulped the remaining liquid.

"I don't think so. That's why you're still in love with Rebecca."

"What?" That didn't make any sense.

"Alvaredo studied you very carefully. He knew how much you loved Sara. By making her disappear, he undermined your stability thus allowing Rebecca to step in. You think her hair color was pure coincidence? Finch found the documents. They crafted her as a gem. Creating a composite of all the women that shaped your love life…"

Neal winced. It felt like his past and relationships with women had been turned into a simple mathematical equation.

"That's exactly why I hate her!" Neal snarled.

"You hate her because she lied, but deep inside you still love her, which in turn only increases your hate. Actually, it's yourself you hate because you still love her though you think you shouldn't. Your brain screams 'hate', your heart 'love'. That's quite a conflicted situation…"

"Your advice, Dr. Freud?" Neal asked his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Give yourself time. Like any wound, it will heal."

"Faster than my shoulder?"

"Probably not…" John smiled, "but if you want something more serious, I'm quite good at kneecapping."

Neal couldn't help a laugh.

"I think I'll pass," he said shaking his head. He put a hand on John's arm, "thank you," he said seriously.

John accepted the thanks with a nod of his head and rose to go check with Finch.

Shaw came to him and took his wrist to check his pulse. She also checked his eyes from up close.

"Not dying yet, doctor?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"Not this time. It was a close call though."

Yeah, you can say that again, thought Neal.

"Try to get some sleep," she added, tilting the armchair.

She covered him with a blanket, John watching her in surprise at her concern. Apparently, even Shaw wasn't immune to Neal's undeniable charm.

"Finch, I'd like to keep the Falcon when we get to New York," John told his employer.

"Need some holidays?" the genius asked in a rare humor trait.

"Not really, little detour to London."

"Mr. Reese, if I don't give you enough work, that can be arranged."

"I was actually hoping to reduce it. I think Sara is the only person that can keep Neal in line. Open minded enough to let him have his way, yet loving him enough to be listened to."

"Quite a new set of skills, Mr. Reese..."

"Glad I can still surprise you, Finch."

* * *

 

_New York, Tuesday 11:00 pm, Finch's safe house_

Finch opened the door and stepped to the side to let Neal enter.

"Mr. Caffrey."

Neal glanced at the apartment. A few steps led to a living room. A huge clock hung on a wall. It was simple, elegant and functional.

"Make yourself at home. You are perfectly safe here. Windows are bullet proof, door's lock impossible to open without the proper key." He sighed when he saw the spark in Neal's eyes. "Please, do not make it a personal challenge. I have no doubts that you would be able to find a weakness, but if you could save me the trouble."

Neal had a sheepish smile. "Sorry, occupational hazard."

He crossed the room, checking the place, watching through the window.

"I would recommend staying inside, Mr. Caffrey. You are of course totally free, but in light of your current situation, I would advise some discretion. I will make sure you have everything you need."

Finch went to the kitchen and checked the fridge.

"My instructions have been followed. You have food for a few days. Let me know if you need anything else.

"Thank you, Finch. I will make myself scarce."

"Do not worry about the neighbors."

They turned when they heard Shaw snort behind them.

"You should see the neighbors' names; a real birdhouse…"

"I see you keep investigating, Ms. Shaw," Finch replied in a dry tone.

"You know I do not have a social life, Finch. A girl's got to keep busy," she answered totally remorseless.

Finch pinched his lips but kept silent. He knew the ex-agent would get the final word.

Neal was fighting with the jacket he had put in the plane when he had felt cold. Shaw approached him.

"Let me have a look," she said her face serious.

Neal tensed. He had refrained from complaining, but his shoulder was painful. Shaw had given him some painkillers found in the plane, but they had long wore off. He really didn't want anybody to touch him right now.

Against all odds, Shaw's hands were incredibly tender. She nodded when she was done.

"Everything looks fine, there shouldn't be any consequences. You should take something for the pain though."

You bet, Neal thought.

"You will find a small pharmacy in the bathroom," Finch indicated. "Prescriptions are in the boxes. Help yourself to what you need," he suggested.

Neal jumped when Shaw put her hands to his belt.

"Shaw!" he yelled, stopping her.

"Relax, sweetheart. I only want to check you thigh," she answered watching him straight in the eyes while pulling his pants down. "Sit."

"Nice scar," she said trailing her finger over an old injury.

"Little souvenir from Cape Verde," Neal explained with a wince.

"Yeah, got a few of those myself."

Only a tiny scar showed where the transmitter had been inserted. Shaw probed the leg, studying where it was located. Neal winced when she pressed her thumb against the bone in his leg. She frowned.

"You'll definitely need surgery. Finch knows the right people." She stepped back, "and I remind you that I want that transmitter."

As Finch was giving her a slightly worried glance, she added in a low voice, "John and I need to be able to track Harold…"

The billionaire decided to ignore the vibe and turned to Neal.

"Mr. Caffrey, I thought you might find days a bit long sitting a safe house."

"You have a swimming pool in one of the rooms?" Neal joked.

"Not in here…"

Taken aback by the answer –a swimming pool in an apartment?–, Neal watched Finch go down the hall. The short man turned when he realized he was alone.

"Mr. Caffrey?"

Neal caught up and followed him. Finch opened a room turned into a painting studio. A huge bay window allowed for natural light in the work space. Neal went straight to the painting supplies as if drawn by a magnet.

He was awe struck by the products. Clearly Finch hadn't skimped on the merchandise. He had bought the best the market offered. Even Alvaredo hadn't reached such a high quality. He let his fingers glide slowly over the soft paintbrushes; using these products was going to be almost orgasmic.

His mind was already swirling with ideas; he couldn't wait to tackle a new canvas…

"Thank you, Finch, this is…" He stopped when he realized he was alone.

He went back to the living room. Shaw was sitting on the couch, cleaning a weapon.

"Done painting?"

Neal frowned and watched the clock on the wall. He had been daydreaming for almost twenty minutes.

"Only in my head."

He observed Shaw handling her weapon with the same secure moves she had used to check his shoulder. She had approximately the same look, as if both had the same importance.

Efficient, he thought.

He thought back to the attention she had been paying to him in the plane, then here in the apartment. He was sure no feelings were involved. She was just making sure everything was fine.

"For God's sake, Neal! Just ask. I'm not going to shoot you!" Shaw suddenly exclaimed.

"Are you really a doctor?"

She raised a questioning eyebrow and Neal made a half shrug. He found it hard to imagine the beautiful woman in a white blouse taking care of a patient. Yet her experience and qualifications were obvious; she had taken care of him with unquestionable professionalism.

"You're finding it hard to imagine a scalpel in my hand instead of a gun…"

"I'll admit…" Neal wasn't so sure he was being very bright for prying. If Shaw decided to rip his head off he probably wouldn't even notice.

"You're not the only one with multiple interests…"

"Including how my transmitter works…"

"As I told you, I would really like to see how it is built. So much energy and technology in such a small object seems almost impossible."

"You want to take care of the surgery?" Neal suggested.

"I don't have the necessary tools," Shaw grumbled. Then she had a slightly devious smile, "unless of course you don't really care for anesthesia."

Neal laughed. "No, thanks. I think I'll wait for Finch's doctors."

* * *

 

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

_New York, Tuesday 10:30 pm, Terterboro airport_

John watched the car leave with Finch, Shaw and Neal. Mission accomplished. Caffrey was out of danger. He would be safe in the apartment while they figured out how to deal with his current situation with the FBI. At least, his greater risk now was prison, not his life.

He turned to Dirk who was coming out of the pilot's cabin.

"When can we leave?" he asked the pilot.

"We just need to fill up the tank and confirm our flight plan. If you could get us some food, that would be helpful." As John was turning to the door, he added, "for both trips. British people don't have any idea what real food is."

John couldn't help a smile. "How did you survive with MREs if you think English food isn't good?"

Dirk pretended to shake in horror. "My worst memory of the army," he said with a wink.

Less than thirty minutes later the Falcon was flying to London, using the last slot allowed for take-off. Checking his watch, John decided to sleep for a few hours. Finch was probably helping Neal settle in the safe house; he would call him later to ask him to find Sara.

* * *

 

The few hours of sleep felt wonderful. The plane's arm chairs were almost as comfortable as a bed. He stretched and let his nose guide him to the galley where coffee was available.

His phone buzzed, announcing an incoming message. How did Finch know he was awake?

_##check data on the computer ##_

Not bothering trying to understand, he pressed a key on the computer set on the working area. Finch had obviously been busy.

He had sent Sara's personal address, her work data with address and her complete agenda for the day. He had also added two recommended restaurants for lunch. Checking her program for the day, John decided to wait for the late afternoon. No need to upset her during her working hours. Her last meeting was rather early; he should be able to see her get home from the bar suggested by Finch.

Dirk appeared from the pilot's cabin.

"I thought I heard you moving. We will be arriving in two hours."

"Perfect. Thanks."

"You need to work?" Dirk asked.

John raised a surprised eyebrow. "Not really. Why?"

Dirk pulled a pack of cards from his pocket. "Poker?"

John answered with a smile.

* * *

 

_London, Wednesday noon, local time_

John was patiently waiting for Sara to get home when Finch called him.

"You had a nice flight, Mr. Reese?" his employer asked.

"I won't deny I'm tired, but I'm hoping it's worth it," he answered in a weary tone. "What's up, Finch?"

"I wanted to talk with you about the topic we avoided in the plane," Finch explained.

"You mean the Illuminati and what you found on Alvaredo's computers I assume. Enlighten me."

"I'm glad Mr. Caffrey didn't mention the subject. I guess he was distracted, which is good, I don't want to implicate him more than he already is. Unfortunately my research was cut short when the network was shut down. They probably found out sooner than I expected that I had deleted all records of your presence and took the necessary measures."

"You erased all the videos? So there are no traces of our presence in Laredo?" John asked in an awed tone.

"Indeed. I also deleted the police town videos and the hotel ledger."

Finch went on with his explanations.

"That organization is even more paranoid than our intelligence services. Some files, such as Mr. Caffrey's were easily accessible once in the system, but most of them are highly encrypted. I made copies but it will take weeks to crack the code. I was hoping to get more information on the menace, as Ms Groves calls it, but I'm afraid we still have no information on who we are facing."

"A last thing. I just sent to agent Burke and the Marshal's office information about two of their agents who worked for Alvaredo. I guess it is at least something."

"Don't be that hard on yourself Finch. I'm pretty sure you gathered more information on the topic than anyone before. Whoever they are, Illuminati or some other organization, we will find them some day," Reese answered.

"I also stopped my research on the companies' network for now. After what happened in Laredo, their security will be increased. I think it wiser to remain discreet for now," Finch concluded. "Good luck with Ms. Ellis," he added before ending the call.

A while later, a message appeared on Finch's screen.

_##She thanks you. All the data you gathered will help set up new surveillance. Root##_

Finch shook his head at the cryptic message. On the other hand, what could he expect from their mysterious ally?"

He rose and picked up Bear's extra leash. Mozzie would probably enjoy getting rid of the malinois, and he was impatient to get their dog back. Even if he did complain when Bear chewed on some of his books, he would never get rid of him. His presence in the Library was as soothing as the gentle hum of the computers.

* * *

 

_London, Wednesday 5:30 pm (local time), Sara's apartment_

Unlike his usual habits, John knocked on Sara's door. He heard footsteps then a body brush against the door; Sara was apparently checking who her visitor was.

She opened the door clearly surprised.

"John?"

"Hello, Sara."

She remained silent, probably wondering why he was there. She paled suddenly.

"Is Neal ok?"

John had an interior relieved sigh. She was worried about her ex-boyfriend, chances were he hadn't crossed the Atlantic for nothing. Even if the poker game with Dirk had been a hell of a fun.

"He is alive, if that is your question," he soothed her. As Sara didn't show any signs of moving, he asked, "may I come in?"

She jumped slightly. "Yes, of course. Sorry." She stepped aside to let him enter the apartment.

"How are you doing John?" she asked, remembering to be polite.

John followed her to the couch she pointed to. Straight to the point, she had apparently gathered that his visit wasn't just a courtesy call.

"I am fine, thank you Sara. And to answer your question, Neal is fine too. He has been a bit roughened up, but he will get over it…" He let her digest the news. "And actually, I thought you might be able to help," he added slowly, testing the waters.

Sara opened her mouth to protest, then sighed. "It's complicated…" she explained.

"Love always is…"

"I don't…" Sara protested.

"You still love him. So does Neal. I think you should start talking and stop hiding things from each other."

"Neal is genetically incapable of having an honest conversation," Sara countered.

John sighed. He probably wasn't the best intermediary in this kind of situation. If he had his say, he would just tie them both to the top of a crane to force them to talk; then again since he couldn't resort to such drastic measures he would try his negotiating skills, although according to Shaw they were close to null.

He handed her the file Finch had shown to Neal. She browsed through it, then winced.

"Yes, I am aware of this. The reason I actually came back to London…"

"These documents are a bunch of lies."

"No, they're not. I did some digging. All these facts are true."

"What does your heart tell you?"

"My heart doesn't have a say in this! It's like that U-boat…" She stopped short, her eyes wide open in guilt.

"Don't worry, I'm aware of that story," John said shaking his head, wondering if Sara was even conscious of what she had just done.

While she was accusing Neal, she had just defended him for having kept the treasure a secret. She was as conflicted about her feelings as Neal was about Rebecca. Those two needed a counselor… discreet… and broad-minded…

"I have a long story to tell you Sara. A drink would be nice."

The redhair stood to pour them a drink, cast a glance at John and added more alcohol to the glasses. John sipped his drink and had a surprised wince at the sweet taste.

"Sherry? British taste already?" he joked.

"Not really. I've always loved Sherry. Can't say I appreciate British food though…"

"You miss Central Park's hot dogs?"

"And Little Italy's pizzas…" she added with a dreamy look.

She let a long sigh. "So, what mess has Neal landed into this time?"

John couldn't help a small smile. She did know him well.

"He was kidnapped last week. He is safe now," he added when he saw her pale.

"I guess you're the one to thank…"

Sara thought back to her own kidnapping a year ago. Without John, she probably wouldn't be around.

"He's been luckier than you as regards his captivity settings. He is back in New York, surrounded by good people."

"Why don't you tell me the whole story?" Sara asked, guessing there was more to it.

"A little over a year ago, a man named Alvaredo set up an amazing con to get Neal to help him find a pink diamond…"

Reese told her what Neal's life had been during the last months. As he was talking, he looked closely at the face of the young woman: the anger at the deception, the hint of jealousy when he mentioned Rebecca, worry, fear… He didn't doubt her feelings towards Neal, but just as the ex-thief, Sara's heart and brain were having some trouble communicating.

When he finished his tale, Sara remained silent for a long time, probably coming to grasps with all of it. She stood and went to the window, lost in her thoughts.

"Neal sent you plead his case?" she finally asked. "Doesn't look like him…"

"He doesn't know I'm here."

Sara turned to the man sitting on her couch. She remembered their first meeting vividly. A tall man in black that had made short of the men holding her. She had seen him fight against a giant that had thrown him through a glass wall. She still could see the spray of blood when John had slashed the man's throat. Then, as if the whole fight had just been a minor interruption, he had freed her. He had saved her, then had saved Neal's life a few hours later.

And he was now playing matchmaker…

The man seemed to see her disbelief.

"Getting you back from London last time wasn't piece of cake. I'm not letting some megalomaniac destroy everything." He took a sip from his glass. "I believe in second chances, Ms. Ellis. Somebody gave me one a few years ago. Sometimes you need a helping hand. Talk to Neal…."

Sara sighed deeply. "It's…"

John let a small chuckle out. "I'm not asking you to come back with me today, Sara. Just promise me to think about it. Please?"

Sara nodded her agreement. John stood up and put his glass on the table.

"Thank you for the drink. Have a nice evening, Sara."

"You're leaving already?"

John was caught off guard. He had no reasons for delaying his departure.

Sara seemed to hesitate for a second. "Did Neal tell you how we met?"

"Briefly..."

"There are things I have never been able to tell anyone," Sara whispered looking out the window. "No one would have understood…"

John bit back a sigh and sat back down. Apparently Sara needed to talk and had decided he was as good as any. This job had sometimes quite unexpected spins.

* * *

 

He left London a few hours later, feeling like going to the shady parts of town to start a fight just to let some steam off. He was a man of action. Sitting to listen as Sara poured her heart out made him wonder what morbid fascination could lead people to be psychologists. If Neal and Sara didn't get back together, he was going to shake them both until their teeth rattled.

"Finch," he barked on his phone as he stepped into a cab.

"Mr. Reese," Harold answered with his usual calm, apparently unfazed by the sharp tone of his employee.

"I'm just leaving Sara's apartment."

"How is Miss Ellis doing?"

"She's fine. Honestly, the baby-sitting associated with this work is getting more and more difficult to handle."

Finch was about to tell him no one had asked him to go to London but refrained from doing so. Reese seemed to be mad enough already.

"You'll be happy to learn that things are turning for the better as regards Mr. Caffrey's release. I set up a meeting with Miss Morgan tomorrow."

The mere mention of the fixer's name had the expected effect. John answered in a much softer voice.

"That's good news. Thank you, Finch."

"And since we're sharing good news. A generous anonymous donor has sent a precious gift to the Mexican embassy. Apparently it would be the Gods' mask that had disappeared in Tenochtitlan around 1520 as well as a spear supposedly belonging to one of Cortes' men."

"The curator of the Mexican museum is probably already on a plane flying to the US."

"Most probably."

"How is Neal doing?"

"Ms. Shaw tells me he's only suffering from the downfall of his bad experience, but there is no cause to worry."

"What do you mean?" John asked worried nonetheless.

"He's been asleep since our arrival."

"At least, in the meantime he doesn't get in trouble," John answered amused. He had been known to crash severely in the past after some of his most gruesome missions.

"I assume you're on your way to the airport?"

"Yes. I should be back in about eight hours. I'll meet you at the library."

"Mr. Reese, Mr. Caffrey is safe. Why don't you rest for a few hours?"

"The seats in your plane are quite comfortable, Finch. Don't worry about me."

"It's up to you, Mr. Reese," Finch answered, his voice expressing his exasperation.

His employee didn't mind going over an ocean to ensure the happiness of a number, but seemed absolutely incapable of taking care of his own well-being. He would need to make sure someone did. Anyway, Miss Morgan was supposed to call him back about the FBI file…

* * *

 

_New York, Thursday morning, Finch's safe house_

John stood to open the door and gave Zoe one of his rare blinding smiles.

"Hello, Zoe."

"John," she greeted him with a smile and a nod of her head.

She went down the steps and remembered the last time she had been in this apartment. Their "girl's night out" organized by Finch and Reese to stop a predator –though things had turned out quite differently in the end. She couldn't help a smile remembering the faces of the two men, obviously fascinated by their presence but trying to be as gentlemen as possible.

Finch rose to greet her.

"Miss Morgan, it's always a pleasure," he said shaking her hand.

Neal approached her. "Miss Morgan, it's an honor to meet you in person."

He took her hand and brushed it with his lips in a classy greeting.

"Mr. Caffrey, I guess what I heard about you is right."

"Please, call me Neal," the conman answered with one of his dazzling smiles.

John shook his head in amusement. The man was hopeless. Zoe saw the minute movement and raised an eyebrow in his direction. Jealous?

They sat down on the comfortable couches and Zoe pulled a file of documents from her purse.

"Mr. Caffrey… Neal," she corrected. "Harold and John asked for my help as regards your release denial. Honestly, I must admit I didn't know how I could do anything about such a decision, but the conditions of your disappearance and Finch's discoveries allowed us to detect quite a few anomalies."

That was putting it mildly. The FBI director belonged to Alvaredo's circle and had made the decision without consulting the General Attorney, or anyone else for that matter, putting his veto on the release request.

"Fortunately, I know some people and I have been able to request the reopening of the file."

"Even though the FBI director had closed the case?" Neal asked in surprise.

"You just need to go higher," Zoe said mysteriously.

Neal felt his respect for Zoe increase. He was starting to think she probably knew the President of the United States personally.

"When you get a request from the Supreme Court, supported by a Congressman, the FBI director can only obey…"

Zoe gave Neal a few seconds to digest the information. The files she had read had allowed her to learn quite a bit about the FBI's CI. A man such as he could certainly come in handy. She wanted to make sure he understood the lengths she had gone on his case, so she could ask him a favor in return the day she'd need it. Fixer was a full time job, not a hobby.

"The other advantage is also that your file got full priority. You didn't make things easy, Mr. Caffrey. Running to Cape Verde has been the proverbial straw, difficult to simply ignore with a slap of hand. Lucky for you, your talents are highly praised. A compromise has been reached, strongly battled for, believe me!"

Neal winced. He didn't believe in compromises… Generally, an ex-con, even a repented one, was never on the good side of it.

"The FBI wants to benefits from your services. They want you to teach your talents to a specialized team so that your successes can be repeated."

"You can't teach a gift," John mumbled.

The praise went straight to Neal's heart.

"Quite a fan club you have, Neal," Zoe commented with a chuckle, watching John.

Reese shrugged. "You can't deny facts," was his only explanation.

"Anyway, the FBI seems to think that you could train their agents during a three year contract."

"Three more years! No way! I served my time," Neal shot, rising in a leap.

If he had remained in prison from the beginning, he would be free by now; he didn't want to keep wearing an anklet. He had proved himself; even his "trip" to Cape Verde had been actually caused by the agency, more specifically agent Kramer who had wanted to keep him under what had looked like a lifetime sentence.

Unconsciously, he had gone to the door. He was surprised when he found himself facing John.

"Neal, calm down. You're not going to run now…" the agent told him in a soothing voice, putting a light hand on his arm.

Neal clenched his teeth. He didn't stand a chance against the agent, but that didn't prevent him from wanting to push him away. He shot him a dark eye, but Reese just kept his quiet posture.

Zoe cast a glance to Finch, surprised by the violent reaction of the CI. She had apparently hit a nerve.

"Mr. Caffrey, maybe if you let me finish…" she suggested.

Neal sighed deeply his eyes closed, trying to calm himself.

"I apologize, Miss Morgan. This conversation strongly reminds me of another one not so long ago… I may have overreacted."

Zoe accepted the apology with a nod.

"The three year contract is a work contract, as an employee of the agency, not as informant or as a prisoner deal. Your release has been approved. This contract is the compromise I told you about. It actually allows the Director to save appearances."

Neal couldn't do anything to hide the redness that rose to his cheeks. He had indeed overreacted. What did Peter keep repeating? No impulse control? He bit his lip, a bit sheepishly, then came down the stairs to sit back on the couch, keeping his eyes down.

Zoe and John exchanged an amused glance. Feeling Neal wasn't ready to talk yet, she resumed her explanations.

"The documents are being finalized for validation, then will be forwarded to agent Peter Burke, your handler. Your release will be effective as soon as it reaches the New York office and you have been notified. Of course, there will be quite a few signatures involved."

"Thank you…" Neal raised his head. "I don't know how to thank you. If there is anything I can do someday…"

"My services are not free, Mr. Caffrey. I will remember to call you when needed," she answered with a smile.

Neal felt a twinge of worry. What kind of assistance had she given to a Judge from the Supreme Court that he had requested for his file to be reopened? What would she ask the day his "specific talents" were needed in one of Ms. Morgan's cases?

He swallowed hard. He was pretty sure she didn't mind stepping out of the legal line; her association with Reese and Finch proved it. But he would worry about it in due time.

For now, he was just going to enjoy the news.

_Free…_

A part of his mind was conscious that Zoe was still talking with John and Finch but he found it impossible to concentrate on what they were saying.

_No more anklet… no more radius… a real job with a salary…_

The news was almost too good to be true. He frowned. What if…

He had been sure before that his release was a done deal. He wouldn't allow himself to get carried away. As long as he didn't have the proper documents in his hands, he would remain cautious.

Zoe finally rose to leave. Out of respect for Neal, she only gave John a light kiss on the cheek.

"Good bye, John. Call me," she added going through the door.

As she left, she let her hand trail on the ex-agent backside. He couldn't help flinching. The familiarity she could have in public never ceased to amaze him.

Neal opened his eyes wide, watching as John closed the door and turned.

"Did she just…"

John had a small wince. "Zoe seems quite fascinated by that part of my anatomy."

"Oh…" Neal chuckled. Then he opened his eyes wider. "Oooooh… You and Zoe Morgan... Wow…."

John tilted his head surprised by the comment.

Neal apologized with a hand gesture. "Sorry, don't take it wrong. I'm glad for you. Just surprised. I know a few men that would kill to step in your shoes."

Zoe Morgan was a legend in her field. Her personal life was a mystery that no one had a clue about. She kept that secret as seriously as her clients'. When he thought about it, her relationship with John actually made sense, both lived in the shadows.

"How long have you two been together?" he couldn't help asking.

John was about to politely tell him to mind his own business when he realized he had actually started dating Zoe after his case with Neal. So instead of reproaching his curiosity, he smiled.

"Actually, I should thank you. After all the work she had done on Burke's file, I had to go and thank her…"

"So she's the one who gathered the information against Calloway?" Neal exclaimed. "I know Finch sent the data to Diana, but I didn't know you had called for help."

He remained silent for a moment. "It does explain some things…"

"Congratulations," John said.

"On what?"

"Your release."

Neal winced. "John, I do not doubt Ms. Morgan's talents, but I will only believe it when I see it with my own eyes."

He had felt crushed when Peter had told him his release had been denied. He wouldn't allow himself the slightest hope as long as the FBI wouldn't have officially released him.

"I guess I can keep living here for now?"

"Of course, as long as you need to."

Neal thanked him with a nod.

"I'd like to see Peter."

"You're sure? Doesn't look very safe to me. You're still on their wanted list."

"I'd like to explain what happened. From what Mozzie told me, he's really worried. I would like to at least appease him, let him know I'm alive. I will make it very clear that I won't come forward as long as my release hasn't been confirmed."

"Neal, he's an FBI agent. Despite your friendship, his duty will be to handcuff you on the spot!"

"Probably. That's why I'm going to need some help…" Neal added with a pointed look.

"To help you vanish if things turn awry…"

Neal gave him a crooked smile. John frowned deep in thought.

"We need a public location, with lots of ways out, obstacles to slow down your pursuers, body guards ensuring your protection…"

"You have a spot in mind…"

"Central Park, on the north west part. If Mozzie doesn't mind pushing Burke into the water if needed."

"You better don't suggest the idea. He might just do it for the heck of it!" Neal said laughing. "I'll ask Mozz to set up the meeting."

* * *

 

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter beta'd by Ayam. Thank you so much for cheching my English. I appreciate.

_New York, Friday morning, FBI offices_

Sitting behind his desk, Peter was going over the few elements they had gathered after Neal's disappearance. Not a lot to go on; he had read the reports so many times, he could quote every single one of them, commas included.

He was holding the plastic bag with the hair they had found in the van. He hadn't needed to wait for the DNA results to know they belonged to Neal. That information, more than anything else, had convinced him that Neal hadn't vanished voluntarily. Since then he had been trying, unsuccessfully, to picture Neal with short hair. A portrait had been sent out, a photoshopped picture, but Peter still found it difficult to actually visualize it.

His CI, and friend, had now been missing for almost ten days, yet clues were still elusive. The van found at La Guardia had led nowhere; the searches on Neal's former identities (although Mozzie had given them the passports, he was pretty sure Neal had other hideouts) had all been fruitless.

As an FBI agent, he tried to keep his mind opened to all possibilities. Their last discussion had been harsh; he was bound to admit that there was a chance that Neal, feeling betrayed, had indeed run. But deep inside, he was convinced his disappearance wasn't a choice; the more days went by, the more he worried. Of course, there would be no ransom request. How many "Hagans" were there that could blackmail Neal, force him to work for them?

That possibility was actually the less scary one. He would rather have Neal forging the greatest paintings on earth or preparing the ultimate con, than the other, terrifying, alternative.

How many people had Neal "upset"? How many thought the world would be a better place without Caffrey in it? The means to get rid of a body were endless, especially with an ocean so close. Of course, in that case, why shave his head? Why take him to an airport? Nothing made sense in this story.

As usual, he thought back to Bruce's call, telling him the release had been denied.

Pure selfishness; that was the conclusion he had finally reached. They had wanted to keep Neal's talents for themselves, and now the CI might pay for it with his life.

If anything happened to Neal… He would personally go tell the FBI director what he thought of his decision, even if it cost him his job in Washington, or even his career. He wasn't sure he could keep working for the agency responsible for his friend's death.

He sighed and turned to look out the window.

His phone rang.

 _Elizabeth_.

He smiled. He missed her so much. His wife and his CI were the most important persons in his life. Those with whom he had spent the most cherished times. Even if it had taken him four years to catch Neal, the thief had been part of his everyday life; so much that sometimes Elizabeth had chided him, asking if she should worry about their marriage or his intentions towards that blue eyed daredevil.

After Neal's sudden disappearance, Peter hadn't even told the office he was giving up his job in Washington. His CI running away had postponed the job transition, the bureau clearly aware that if anyone could find Neal, he was the one. Once this was over, he would have time to make his decision.

"Hello honey. How are things in Washington?" he asked picking up the line.

"Wonderful. Like it's Christmas every day," Elizabeth said, her smile obvious in her voice.

"That's nice," he commented, his voice lacking enthusiasm.

He heard the sad sigh of his wife.

"No news yet?" she asked softly, knowing how much Peter was hurting.

"No."

"You'll find him Peter. Be patient. Remember, it took you six weeks the last time…"

"And four years before that. I know El. But this is different. I told him not to run."

"Whereas last time, you gave him the sign to disappear," El whispered, almost to herself.

"And seeing Mozzie hell bent on helping us is even more frightening."

"His clues didn't pan out?"

"No. We did stop a couple of small time thieves; although I sometimes wonder if he is not voluntarily sending us on wild goose chases."

Peter actually wondered if Mozzie wasn't using the FBI to get rid of some personal enemies.

"Why would he do that? On the list of people wanting to find Neal…" Elizabeth's voice trailed.

"Unless he knows where Neal is and is just waiting for the dust to settle down and disappear himself."

"He wouldn't do that! You told me he was devastated when you told him Neal had disappeared."

"Elizabeth, you're the only person Mozzie has ever trusted, as far as he can trust anyone. I have never understood the man. I don't know what option is the worst. Mozzie not knowing, which would mean Neal is in deep shit; or that this is just a huge con…"

"He has helped you in the past."

"Only, because Neal forced him to."

Silence fell. Peter raised his eyes; a messenger was at his door.

"Honey, I have to go. There's a courier for me. Take care."

"Love you, hon."

"Love you."

He ended the call and raised his hand to invite the messenger in. A letter from the FBI's headquarters. He frowned and signed the slip.

He tore the seal on the envelope and removed the official document. He opened the file. Neal's picture was stapled on the cover. He read the text and froze. The words didn't make it to his brain. He swallowed, breathed deeply and read the paragraph again, slowly.

Neal was free.

With shaking hands, he turned the pages, reading the new decision made by the FBI following a reopening request.

Who had asked to reopen the file?

On the floor below, Diana had kept an eye on the messenger then had seen Peter's face crumble. She hadn't seen that very often. In the few instances it had happened before, Neal was somehow concerned. Her heart missed a beat when she envisioned the worst. She was in front of Peter's door before she even realized she was moving.

"Peter?" she asked her voice barely audible.

The agent jumped in surprise when he heard Diana.

"Bad… news?" she asked, not caring that her boss could tell her to mind her own business.

"No," Peter stammered.

Diana wasn't convinced by the tone. "You're sure?"

Neal was free… but Neal had vanished. He might never know that he had finally obtained what he had so much longed for.

He handed her the file. "Neal is free."

"What?"

"Neal's release request has been revised. He is free."

Diana fell on the chair dumbfounded. "Wow…"

She couldn't decide if she wanted to shout her happiness or scream her frustration. Probably how it felt to be schizophrenic…

At his desk, Jones had seen Diana climb the stairs then fall on the chair. His partner and her boss just sat there in silence, their eyes lost in midair. He finally gave up, and went to the office.

"Who's dead?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"Neal…" Diana started.

"Neal is dead?" Jones interrupted her, blanching.

"No. He's free."

The agent's eyes went from Diana to Peter. "Then, why do you look like you're at your best friend's funeral? That's good news."

"If we could tell him…" Diana said softly.

"Maybe it will make him come forward," Jones suggested.

"You want to use that news to make him come back?"

"Of course, it only works if he ran…"

"It won't work. He would think it's a subterfuge." Diana shook her head in frustration. "There's no way out. If he comes back, he will be arrested for having run away. Would that compromise the release?"

"Then why did they change their decision? They knew he was missing."

"Not necessarily the top brass. The field agents are looking for him, but HQ does not follow every single file on real time."

"Neal did not run," Peter stated with a firm voice, interrupting the two agents.

Diana and Jones turned to him. From the beginning Peter had shared his doubts, but he had never been that straightforward.

Peter's phone buzzed announcing an incoming text message. He apologized with a light wince and checked the message.

_##Where a bridge joins New Amsterdam to the Highlands in the woods of the north, an enemy of thy enemy awaits##_

Peter grunted. Mozzie and his riddles…

The wood was easy, Central Park. The place had the advantage of offering many trails, and thus many ways to disappear; Mozzie had been using it as their meeting place of late. He opened a map of the park on his screen. He had realized the short man used the park's official map to identify the spots. Who would have thought that a tourist map could feed the imagination of a conspiracies maniac?

"Woods of the North…" Peter mumbled his eyes trailing over the map. North Wood. One of the most hidden parts of the park; a little bit of the Adirondacks in the heart of the big city. Right beside it was the Loch, Scottish for lake, hence the Highlands. "Mozzie, you're slipping… That was easy," he whispered.

"News from our last unofficial agent?" Diana asked with a smile.

"Indeed." Peter donned his jacket and took his gun from his drawer.

"I'll keep you informed," he said leaving his office.

* * *

 

Peter made it to the place indicated by Mozzie. He could appreciate the choice. There were very few people around at that time of the day. He chuckled. Mozzie was wearing a hoodie, blue jeans and skates, visibly trying to blend in.

"I didn't know you could in-line skate," Peter said, sitting on the bench by his side.

"So many things you don't know about me, Peter."

Peter… The agent smiled. The first time Mozzie had used his first name, he was feeling the effects of a lethal poison, losing his faculties by the minute. That alone had terrified Peter more than the actual poison.

Since Neal's disappearance, they had met several times, their relationship less strained, although it was clear Mozzie didn't trust him one bit. However, apparently determined to grin and bear it, he had come to terms with the fact that the agent was as worried as he was and their collaboration could only help Neal.

"Never doubted that."

The bald man remained silent, watching the people go by.

"Mozzie, some of us actually have to work for a living. I'll admit Central Park is a nice place to be, but did you have a real reason for calling me?"

"Neal is back," Mozzie said leisurely, as if he had just informed him of the weather forecast.

The news felt like a bomb. Dozens of different feelings fought for space in his mind: joy, wrath, mistrust, the wish to hit Mozzie, then Neal, to tie both of them and throw them in the darkest dungeon…

Then, the most important information took precedence: Neal was alive.

The relief was so strong that he had to grab the edge of the bench, feeling lightheaded for a minute.

He breathed out softly, calming himself. Mozzie raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"You're not going to pass out on me, are you?" he asked a bit worried by the whiteness of the agent.

"When… where…?" Peter was finding it difficult to make sentences.

"He was kidnapped. Some… friends managed to free him."

"How he is doing? Where is he?"

"He is fine. He would like to see you."

Mozzie raised his head, looking at the grove of trees in front of them. Peter looked in the same direction. Neal was coming out of the shade, a playful smile on his lips. The agent tried to rise but his legs wouldn't obey.

Neal walked toward him uncertainly and Peter finally got his muscles under control. He ran to his CI, hugging him like his life depended on it.

"Neal…" Peter whispered, at a loss for words.

He hugged his friend more tightly and Neal moaned when his shoulder complained. Peter let him go immediately, a worried frown on his face. Neal shook his head immediately.

"Nothing serious."

The agent realized his CI had his left arm in a sling. He stepped back to look him over carefully, still holding him.

"Are you all right? Mozzie told me you were kidnapped."

"That would be the gist of it." He nodded to the bench, inviting him to sit down.

Mozzie had vanished. Peter looked around and saw a tall silhouette in the dark, hiding in the trees where Neal was a few minutes ago. He frowned trying to remember where he had seen the face before. The memory came back full force almost giving him whiplash: the mercenary that had helped him get out of jail…

 _John_.

So, he was the "friend" Mozzie had mentioned. Their eyes met and Peter nodded his thanks. John moved his head minutely then stepped back in the shadows.

Peter immediately linked the "friend" with the document currently folded in the glove compartment of his car. Just before he had gotten on the elevator to leave the building he had been given an envelope containing evidence sufficient to arrest two Marshals who had taken bribes to hand over Neal's anklet key, and therefore help the kidnapping. That was one question answered, he thought.

"So, what happened?" Peter asked, watching Neal's face again as if he still had trouble believing his friend was back.

"It's a long story."

"No problem. I have time: I just closed my last case," Peter answered with a smile.

Neal chuckled. "By the way, shouldn't you be in Washington?"

Peter winced. "I decided to turn the job down."

"You… WHAT?"

The agent sighed. "After your release was denied, I realized I couldn't just leave you in the hands of another handler…"

"What about Elizabeth?"

"She's been offered the position of a lifetime! She couldn't turn that down."

"You... you…" Neal babbled. "You broke up with Elizabeth?" Neal whispered his eyes wide open, aghast.

"No. We're just not living in the same town because of our work." He saw Neal go pale. "Neal, lots of people do that."

"But... but not you," he stammered. "Peter, I'm only an ex-thief and your CI! Elizabeth is the woman of your life. I keep messing up your life! You're crazy!"

"Kind of my thought exactly," Peter mumbled for himself. "So, what happened? Don't think you can deflect that easily, Caffrey!"

Neal smirked. "Spoil sport."

"Right. Talk!" the agent barked.

With a resigned smile, Neal started telling him the events since his kidnapping. He told him about the main facts of Alvaredo's network, the mask discovery, John's involvement. He kept the tracker information secret. Finch had said it was still active, no need to give the FBI new ideas. Not before he had his release papers in his hands. Actually, even after that. Shaw had said the surgery could be done discreetly; the more he thought about it, the more he preferred that solution.

Peter remained silent, dumbstruck and blown away. How did Neal manage to get involved in such schemes? He had thought the whole Rebecca/Rachel case had topped it all, but apparently there were no limits in Caffrey's world. He could tell that, as usual, Neal was keeping some stuff out. And who was that mysterious guardian angel that had saved him?

Something in the way Neal was talking made him suspicious; he suddenly realized what.

"You already know you've been released, right?" he asked softly.

"I thought that too ten days ago…" Neal murmured.

"The official document landed on my desk this morning," Peter confirmed, deciding he didn't care how Neal knew. "Congratulations!"

The smile on Neal's face made all the smiles Peter had seen on the face before look like mere winces. The joy turned into a happy laugh and he put an arm around Peter's shoulders.

"Thank you."

"Actually, I had nothing to do with it," Peter said. "And there is a clause attached to it."

"Yeah, the three year contract." Neal shrugged it off. "It doesn't say it needs to be in New York, right?"

"You… you would go to Washington?" Peter sputtered.

"You, Elizabeth and me… together, like the three musketeers."

"There were four of them," Peter grumbled.

"Mozzie!" the two men exclaimed at the same time and burst out laughing.

* * *

 

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN. This is the last chapter of our story. We hope you had as much fun reading this as we had writing it.
> 
> Thank you very much for following us and for your comments. Yellowstone and myself do not write to get reviews, but it sure feels really nice every time we receive them.
> 
>  
> 
> And now let's go back to Neal's place one last time.

_New York, Sunday evening, Neal's loft_

Neal, Mozzie and John were enjoying a glass of wine in Neal's loft. He had opened an exceptional vintage for the occasion –surprised that Mozzie hadn't sampled it in his absence.

Shaw had left shortly after finishing her first glass. Actually Neal had been surprised she had accepted the invitation at all. Finch had excused himself, explaining he had been away far too long and needed to check his computers. Neal thought the man just wanted to be alone in the quietness of the library. His stay in Laredo must have been challenging.

He thought back to the events of the two previous days...

 

* * *

 

 

Sitting on the bench in Central Park, their laugh had turned to a warm, slightly nervous, chuckle. Both men were realizing that a page had been turned, more like the whole book actually. Hell, they weren't even in the same library anymore! The silence stretched as they thought about the past five years.

Finally, Peter put a hand on Neal's arm.

"Come on. Let's go now," he said.

"Where?"

"FBI office," Peter answered, apparently surprised by the question.

"Huh… No, I don't think so…" Neal replied softly.

"Neal?"

"Peter, I trust you. I'm not as confident about your administration."

"You have no cause to worry."

"As things stand, I'm still wanted by the FBI and considered a fugitive. Are you positive that I won't end up in jail while you sort out the red tape?"

Peter winced. He couldn't actually promise that Neal wouldn't be held in custody.

"I'm sure I can keep you in our offices…"

Peter cursed himself the moment the words were out. Neal probably didn't want to hear this. Being held in a cell at the FBI instead of Rikers didn't make that much of a difference.

Neal raised an eyebrow. This was exactly the reason why he wasn't going with Peter. No way he'd agree to being locked up before everything was sorted out. Mozzie would have a stroke if he learned that Neal had willingly followed the FBI agent.

As a friend, Peter perfectly understood Neal's position; as an FBI agent he couldn't just let his CI make the decision and vanish again. He rose trying to show his authority. Neal rose too, not accepting being looked down.

"Neal!" Peter barked.

"No," Neal simply stated, looking directly into his eyes.

Peter automatically reached for his handcuffs. A hand touched his shoulder, fingers resting lightly above his collarbone.

"Is there a problem?" a low voice asked.

Peter closed his eyes with a groan. He should have known he wouldn't get the last word in this. John's hand on his shoulder looked friendly enough, but he wasn't fooled. Worse, he was pretty sure John wouldn't mind knocking down an FBI agent if necessary. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure he wanted to know more about Neal's guardian angel.

He sighed deeply, acknowledging defeat. His whole life would certainly have been much easier if he had never crossed paths with this devil-may-care-too-smart-for-his-own-good "alleged" thief.

"You know that I am holding you personally responsible for all the grey in my hair ," he growled.

Neal flashed one of his brilliant smiles.

"Don't look so smug," Peter grumbled. "Where can I reach you?"

"I'll call you tomorrow."

Putting a hand to Neal's elbow, John had led them into the woods, disappearing in the shadows. They had then gone back to Finch's safe house, since the loft was still probably being watched.

As promised, Neal called Peter early in the morning and was asked to come at 10:00. By then, everything would be ready. Diana would wait in front of the building to lead him inside. He couldn't just let him show up at the door after the manhunt he had generated.

When he met her, Neal held out his wrists with a huge smile. He loved driving Diana mad, it was so easy.

"Show off," she mumbled, knowing perfectly well handcuffs were useless. "Just be nice and follow me." She had grabbed his arm and hadn't let him go until she plopped him down in a chair in Peter's office.

As soon as Neal got into the building he could feel the tense atmosphere. People were whispering, casting glances around them. His arrival was barely noticed. He hadn't been expecting a welcome party, but the total non-event led him to think something was going on, something bigger than his return…

Jones had joined them in Peter's office, so the document could be read with witnesses. Although the real reason was more to allow Diana and Clinton to share the moment.

The document stated what Zoe had told Neal. He was now a free man, his exceptional track record recognized. Any penalty for missteps, such as his trip to Cape Verde, had been waived in favor of a three year work contract for the FBI. That time was to be used to train as many agents as possible so that his skills wouldn't be lost. At the end of the contract, he would be free to keep working for the FBI or just go away, totally free.

Deep inside, Peter still doubted Neal would keep working for the FBI after the three years. Sooner or later, his old demons would wake up and he would find some temptation too great to resist. Too bad Sara had left him. She was probably the only person who could keep him on the straight and narrow.

Jones and Diana had clapped their hands, hugged Neal, happy for him, then returned to work. Peter and Neal had remained in the office, sitting in silence, savoring the news.

"I've decided to accept the job in Washington. Since I didn't turn it down in the first place, there wasn't really an issue there. I'm sure they'll be happy to have you in their ranks should you wish to go."

Neal nodded.

"And now, how about telling me what's going on here?"

Neal rolled his eyes at Peter's innocent look.

"Come on. The tension is so thick you'd need a chainsaw to get through it!"

The agent winced. His ex-CI didn't miss a thing.

"The FBI Director resigned…"

A flash went through Neal's eyes and Peter frowned.

Neal immediately reset his mask , upset he had let anything show on his face. So Zoe and/or Finch had managed to get to the Director. He had tuned out the conversation between them at the safe house, but he remembered they had talked about him. He was somehow connected to Alvaredo. Getting on the wrong side of John's partners was really not a good idea…

"… for health reasons," Peter explained, thinking that Neal probably thought the guy deserved it. He had after all denied Neal's release the first time.

They kept on talking for a while then Peter invited him for lunch.

"Your choice," he offered, feeling generous.

"Really? I can choose? Damn. If I had known I just needed to get kidnapped to be able to choose the place, I would have made sure it happened more often…"

"Caffrey…" Peter growled.

"What?" All innocence.

"Shut up."

"How do I tell you where to go if I can't talk?"

Peter pushed him out of the office shaking his head.

After lunch, while his "boss" went back to the office, Neal met with the surgeon recommended by Finch.

When he saw the tray with the necessary tools to remove the tracker, he swallowed hard wondering if maybe he should have taken Shaw up on her offer. He was sure he wanted anesthesia, but that needle looked awfully big…

The ex-agent had mysteriously appeared at the end of the surgery to get the device.

Going back to the loft had probably been the best moment of the day. June had hugged him like a long lost son.

"Don't ever do that again," she begged. "I'm too old for this, Neal."

He had hugged her back tenderly, feeling at home at last.

Being back had felt wonderful, as if he had been away for months and not just a less than a couple of weeks. Despite the slight limp, he had walked around the place as if discovering it for the first time.

Neal had a few days free before he had to officially start his new job. He had called John to let him know how the visit to the FBI had gone and invited him for a drink. Invitation extended, of course, to Finch and Shaw.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He blinked realizing his mind had been drifting and he had missed the conversation going on.

Mozzie was explaining to John all the projects that the Government was running secretly. John listened politely. Watching him more carefully, Neal was convinced his personal guardian angel knew more than Mozzie about secret programs… He still didn't know how John got his information, who the mysterious "source" was that had saved his life twice.

Neal raised a surprised eyebrow hearing a knock on the door.

"You're expecting someone?" Mozzie asked.

"No…" Neal answered putting his glass down.

Being closest to the door, Mozzie rose to open. The three men froze when they saw the uninvited guest.

Neal rose slowly, not believing his eyes.

"Sara…" he whispered.

On his face, his emotions flew as swift as clouds in a storm, surprise, joy, hope, fear… he clearly hadn't anticipated the visit and didn't know what to think of it.

John allowed himself a small satisfied smile. His trip to London hadn't been in vain. He sincerely hoped this time would be the right one.

Mozzie stepped back to let the young woman in. "Good evening, Sara."

She entered the room, her eyes on Neal, looking like a beggar offered food. Forgetting about the other people in the room, the two of them got closer, as if drawn by a magnet.

"Sara…"

"Neal…"

Holding hands, they just watched each other's face.

Mozzie turned to John with a smirk.

"Best friends are those who know when they're not welcome anymore?"

With a nod, John went to the door. Casting a last glance to the couple, still frozen in place drinking each other's eyes, they left the room and closed the door.

"Thank you," Mozzie said.

The ex-agent shrugged. "Not my doing."

Mozzie laughed out loud.

"No, of course not!" He started counting on his fingers. "You got Neal out of the tremendous mess he had landed in, helped recover a historic treasure, stopped a dangerous megalomaniac, convinced Sara to come back…"

"I only talked to her. It's her decision," John interrupted.

"Ah! So you did go to London to see to her," Mozzie exclaimed, pleased he had guessed the truth.

John smiled, giving the short man the satisfaction of that discovery. He was bright, he would have found out sooner or later.

"I meant it when I told Neal to stay out of trouble. If Sara can help…"

"You're afraid he'll become a full time job?" Mozzie joked.

"Something like that. He's not the only one," John grumbled. "But at least Leon has the sense to keep it less complicated."

Stopping at the door step, Mozzie held his hand out.

"Thank you very much for your help."

"Take care," John answered shaking his hand.

He went down the steps, going toward his car, then turned around realizing Mozzie hadn't moved.

"Don't worry, I won't follow you," Mozzie told him.

John nodded his thanks and left. Mozzie stood watching him disappear then started toward his own place. That man was quite a mystery…

Once on the way, John called his employer.

"Finch, are you there?"

"Always, Mr. Reese," Finch answered as usual, suspecting John sometimes used the sentence on purpose.

"Any news?"

"No new number if that is your question."

"It is."

"Miss Morgan is at her place," Finch informed him.

John didn't answer and the silence stretched. As an afterthought, Harold added, "I called her to thank her for her services."

"Do you have a problem with Zoe, Finch?" John finally asked.

At his desk, Finch straightened. "No. Why would you think so?"

"What about just asking me?"

"Asking you what?" Finch asked in surprise. What was his employee talking about? "Are you all right, Mr. Reese?"

"About my relationship with Zoe," John explained.

"Your private life is none of my business. You know how much I value privacy."

"The answer is yes."

"I don't remember asking you a question, Mr. Reese."

"Because, as you say, you value privacy. Well I'm in a sharing mood, enjoy it."

Finch could hear John's smile in his voice. "You seem quite cheerful. I guess everything went well with Mr. Caffrey?"

Reese thought back to the couple who hadn't even noticed their leaving. "Yes. My trip to London seems to have proven useful."

"Ms. Ellis came to New York?"

"She did. Let's hope your machine doesn't persist in giving us Caffrey's number."

"My machine, as you put it, treats data, Mr. Reese. It does not persist in doing anything."

"Tell that to Leon…" John mumbled.

"Good evening, Mr. Reese."

"Good evening, Finch."

John ended the call and turned the car towards Zoe's apartment. She deserved more than just a thank you call from Finch.

* * *

In the loft, Neal and Sara were still lost in each other's eyes. Keeping hold with his sling encumbered hand, Neal released Sara's other hand to touch her face. He slowly caressed her skin, as if not quite believing she was really there. He reached for her lips in a long hungry kiss.

They had to part slightly to breathe again, but stayed joined, unwilling to let go. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, regretting that he couldn't hug her with both arms.

"You came back…" he whispered.

She snuggled closer, resting her face against his chest.

"Leaving you was the most difficult thing I've ever done in my life," she explained.

"I saw the documents, Sara. I understand; you couldn't know."

"You don't get it." Sara moved back a little to watch him. "Even after I saw the incriminating documents, I didn't want to leave."

Neal frowned.

"Yes. I loved… I love you that much," she explained with a light grimace.

She sighed and nestled against Neal's chest again. "But I needed to force myself to step back and think." She remained silent for a moment. "I went to see Peter."

"You showed him the documents?" Neal asked, petrified, feeling a huge cold creeping over his body.

"No, but I did ask a lot of questions about you…" She sighed again, hugging Neal closer. "I decided to go back to London to think about it, away from you."

She raised her head to watch him. "It has been a very long year…"

"I'm sorry," Neal whispered overwhelmed.

"About what? It's not your fault. You've been the victim of a huge con."

"If my past weren't that shady, none of this would have happened."

"And I would have never met you," Sara answered with a smile. "After all, if you hadn't stolen the Raphael we would have never met."

"By the way, now that you mention it, I know where the painting is."

Sara raised her head sharply. "What? How do you know it has been stolen again?"

She frowned in suspicion. "You wouldn't have dared…"

Neal burst out laughing. "Sara, you're overestimating my talents!"

"I've learned the hard way never to underestimate you. I wouldn't put it past you to do it just to get back at me," she grumbled.

Shaking his head in amusement, Neal smiled at her and bent his head to her lips. They kissed leisurely, then passion started to catch up. Neal moaned in pain when Sara grabbed his shoulder in a rough move.

She stepped back immediately. "Neal?"

He shook his head, fighting a wince. "I'm okay."

"What happened?"

"It's a long story…"

A flash of anger ran through Sara's eyes and she let him go. "No! You're not starting again!"

Neal watched her, a bit at a loss by the violent reaction.

"You can't keep hiding things from me. If we want to move on, we need to talk, Neal. We lost a full year because we're both hell bent on keeping our secrets."

"It is a long story." Neal smiled sweetly when Sara shot him a dark eye. "That I was about to tell you about once we're seated with some drinks…"

"Oh," Sara mumbled sheepishly.

Neal trailed a finger over her face. "Life with you is going to be such a roller coaster…"

* * *

"And so, as of today, I am an honest citizen about to sign a work contract," Neal concluded the story of his misadventures.

Sara remained silent. John had told her the broad lines, but what Neal had told her now had left her shaken to her bones. He had an incredible talent for getting himself in the worst situations. Talk about a trouble magnet…

She moved closer and kissed him softly.

"Thank you," she whispered.

His eyes glowing in pleasure, Neal raised an eyebrow.

"For being alive," she explained.

Neal smiled and kissed her again. He would never get enough of her…

"Don't take this the wrong way, I'm really glad to see you, but… why are you here?"

Sara frowned, a little bewildered. "I love you Neal," she answered thinking it was self-explanatory.

"I love you too," he said, planting a light kiss on top of her nose. "Why today?"

"You don't believe in coincidences," she said with an impish smile.

Neal gave her with a slighty reproachful glance.

"John came to London."

"Oh…" He remained silent a few seconds. "I understand now why he stayed in the plane when we came back…"

"Who is he, Neal?"

"No idea." He shook his head when Sara pinched her lips. "Honestly, I really don't know. He seems to appear out of thin air when I'm in trouble. Then explains some 'source' warned him. And that's about it… Mozzie almost went crazy trying to find out, which of course is not good for his paranoia," he added with a smile.

Sara turned her head wondering how long ago the two men had disappeared.

"And now?" she asked.

"Now what?"

"Are you staying in New York or are you following Peter to Washington?"

"Depends…" Neal answered a bit enigmatically as he rose.

He went to a drawer and opened it.

"Depends on what?" Sara asked curious.

"This."

He threw her a little blue velvet box.

Sara deftly caught the object and frowned. She opened it cautiously and froze. A white gold ring with a beautiful diamond was resting on a silky red heart.

"Right before you vanished, I had it all ready. A sail boat, a sunset dinner, soft music, candles. I had even checked the exact time the sun would disappear."

He returned to her and dropped gracefully to one knee.

"I've had quite some time to think about it. And I came to the conclusion that the setting of the proposal has really very little importance." He took her hand in his. "Sara, please, do not run again, I would not survive it. Marry me."

"The proper sentence is supposed to be 'will you marry me?'," Sara whispered with a gulp, her finger brushing the edge of the box.

"I've never been good with rules."

After all he had thrown the box to her across the room…

"Our daughter is going to be very disappointed when she learns how you proposed," Sara commented.

"Our daughter?" Neal repeated with an amused smile.

"And I think we should move to Washington. I'm going to need Peter's help to keep our children in line." She shook her head with a smile. "I can just imagine a bunch of little Caffreys following in your footsteps…"

"So it is yes," Neal concluded with a happy smile.

"I don't know… Did you ask me a question? It sounded more like an order to me."

Neal took the ring out of the box and put it on her finger. He watched her with a delighted smile.

"I love you, Sara Caffrey."

_Mozzie was wrong after all. "Happily ever after" did actually apply to guys like them…_

* * *

The end

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the ride is over... Hope you had fun ready this. Thank you for following us.
> 
> Of course, the end is slightly AU, but remember this was written before season 6 aired.
> 
> Also, this might not be the end of our White Interest universe... Stay tuned!
> 
> Ayam nicely offered to correct my English, and immediately beta'd this chapter. Thank you so much. It's no easy to find a beta reader, I appreciate the effort. Merci!


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